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FRENCH    REVOLUTION 


A    HISTORY 


THOMAS    CARLYLE 


Meya  o  iyiav  eori,  0e\<iv  yap  ifiyav  vaip  /SacrtXeias,  vvip  iKevSepCai,  inkp  e-j 
iffep  aTapaft'os. — AKEIAN0S. 

Aoyfia  yap  avTOiv  ris  juETa^oAAei ;  x«>P''^  ^^  Soyfi.aTut>  /BtCTajSoJk^j,  n  oAAo  i;  i 
jT€v6vruv  Koi  TteiOecOax  vpoanoioviUvmv ,— ANTONINUS. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  I 


CHICAGO   AND   NEW  YORK: 
BELFORD,  CLARKE   &   COMPANY, 

Publishers. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.arcliive.org/details/frenclirevolution01carl 


2)C 
CI 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  FIRST. 


BOOK  I.— Death  of  Louis  XV. 

PAor 

Chap.  I.  Louis  the  Well-beloved [ 

n.  Realised  Ideals IJ 

in.  Viaticum 20 

IV.  Louis  the  Unf orgotten  23 

BOOK  II.— The  Papek  Age. 

Chap.  I.   Astrsea  Redux 31 

11.  Petition  in  Hieroglyphs 37 

in.  Questionable 39 

IV.  Maurepas 43 

V.  Astrsea  Redux  without  Cash 47 

VI.  Windbags  51 

Vn.  Coutrat   Social 55 

VUL  Printed  Paper 53 

BOOK  III. — The  Parlement  of  Paris. 
Chap.  I.  Dishonoured   Bills 63 

II.  Controller  Calonne 68 

III.  The  Notables  71 

IV.  Lomanie's  Edicts 80 

V.  Lominie's  Thunderbolts 85 

VI.  Lorn  mie's  Plots 89 

VII.  Internecine 94 

VIII.  Lomenie's  Death-throes 99 

IX.  Burial  with  Bonfire 110 

BOOK  IV.— States-General. 

Chap.  I.  The  Notables  again  115 

IL  The  Election 120 

III.  Grown  Electric 127 

rV.  The  Procession 130 


4  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  v.— The  Thikd  Estate. 

PAG» 

Chap.  I.  Inertia 149 

IL   Mercury  de  BrcZ3 157 

III.  Broglie  the  War-God 165 

IV.  To  Arms  ! 170 

V.  Give  us  Arms 175 

VI.  Storm  and  Victory 183 

VII.  NotaRevolt 191 

VIII.  Conquering  yonr  King 195 

IX.  The  Lanterne 199 

BOOK  VI. — Consolidation. 

Chap.  I.  Make  the  Constitution 205 

II.  The  Constituent  Assembly 211 

III.  The  General  Overturn 216 

IV,  In  Queue 224 

.,.r-^5>The  Fourth  Estate 237 

BOOK  VII. — The  Insukrection  op  Women. 

Chap.  I.  Patrollotism 231 

II.  O  Richard,  O  my  King 235 

III.  Black  Cockades 240 

IV.  The  Menads 243 

V.  Usher  Maillard 245 

VI.  To  Versailles 251 

VII.  At  Versailles 254 

VIII.  The  Equal  Diet 2.58 

IX.  Lafayette 263 

X.  The  Grand  Entries 267 

XI.  From  Versailles 272 

BOOK  VIII.— The  Feast  of  Pikes. 

Chap.  I.  In  the  Tuileries 279 

II.  In  the  Salle  de  Manege 283 

III.  The  Muster 295 

IV.  Journalism.   301 

V.   Clubbism 306 

VI.  Je  le  Jure 310 

VII.  Prodigies 313 

VIII.  Solemn  League  and  Covenant 316 

IX.  Symbolic 323 

X.  M'ankind 324 

XL  As  in  the  Age  of  Gold 329 

XIL  Sound  and  Smoke 335 


CONTENTS.  D 

BOOK  IX.— Nanci. 

PA  OK 

Chap.  I.  Bouille 343 

II.  Arrears  and  Aristocrats 345 

UI.  Bouille  at  Metz 351 

IV.  Arrears  at  Nanci 355 

V.  Inspector  Malseigne 360 

VI.  Bouille  at  Nanci 363 

BOOK  X.— The  Tuileries. 

Chap.  I.  Epimenides 373 

II.  The  Wakeful 378 

III.  Sword  in  Hand 383 

IV.  To  fly,  or  not  to  fly 389 

V.  The  Day  of  Poniards 398 

VI.  Mirabeau 404 

VII.  Death  of  Mirabeau 408 

BOOK  XI.— Varennes. 

Chap.   I.  Easter  at  Saint-Cloud 417 

II.  Easter  at  Paris 421 

III.  Count  Fersen 424 

IV.  Attitude 431 

V.  The  New  Berline 435 

VI.  Old  Dragoon  Drouet 439 

VII.  The  Night  of  Spurs 443 

VIII.  The  Return 451 

IX.  Sharp  Shot 454 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


BOOK  I. 
DEATH   OF  LOUIS  XT. 


CHAPTER  I. 


LOUIS    THE   WELL-BELOVED. 


Pkesident  H^naolt,  remarking  on  royal  Surnames  of  Hon- 
our how  difficult  it  often  is  to  ascertain  not  only  why,  but 
even  when  they  were  conferred,  takes  occasion  in  his  sleek 
official  way  to  make  a  philosoi^hical  reflection.     '  The  surname 

*  of  Bien-aime  (Well-beloved),'  says  he,  '  which  Louis  XV. 
'bears,  v/iU  not  leave  posterity  in  the  same  doubt.  This 
'  Prince,  in  the  year  1744,  while  hastening  from  one  end  of 

*  his  kingdom  to  the  other,  and  suspending  his  conquests  in 
'Flanders  that  he  might  fly  to  the  assistance  of  Alsace,  was 
'  arrested  at  Metz  by  a  malady  which  thi-eatened  to  cut  short 

*  his  days.  At  the  news  of  this,  Paris,  aU  in  terror,  seemed  a 
'  city  taken  by  storm  :  the  chui-ches  resounded  with  supplica- 
'  tions  and  gi'oans  :  the  prayers  of  priests  and  peoj^le  were 
'  every  moment  interrupted  by  their  sobs  ;  and  it  was  from  an 

*  interest  so  dear  and  tender  that  this  Surname  of  Bien-aime 

*  fashioned  itself,  a  title  higher  still  than  all  the  rest  which 
'  this  great  Prince  has  earned.'  * 

So  stands  it  written  ;  in  lasting  memorial  of  that  year  1744. 
Thirty  other  years  have  come  and  gone  ;  and  '  this  great 
Prince '  again  lies  sick  ;  but  in  how  altered  cii'cum stances 
now !    Churches  resound  not  with  excessive  groanings  ;  Paris 

*  Abrcge  Clironologique  de  I'Histoire  de  France  (Paris,  1775),  p.  701. 


8  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

is  stoically  calm  ;  sobs  interrupt  no  prayers,  for  indeed  none 
are  offered  ;  except  Priests'  Litanies,  read  or  chanted  at  fixed 
money-rate  per  hour,  which  are  not  liable  to  interi-uptiou. 
The  shepherd  of  the  people  has  been  carried  home  from  Lit- 
tle Trianon,  hea\-y  of  heart,  and  been  put  to  bed  in  his  own 
Chateau  of  Versailles :  the  flock  knows  it,  and  heeds  it  not. 
At  most,  in  the  immeasui-able  tide  of  French  Speech  (which 
ceases  not  day  after  day,  and  only  ebbs  towards  the  short 
hom-s  of  night),  may  this  of  the  royal  sickness  emerge  from 
time  to  time  as  an  article  of  news.  Bets  are  doubtless  de- 
pending :  nay,  some  people  '  express  themselves  loudly  in  the 
streets.'  *  But  for  the  rest,  on  gi-een  field  and  steepled  city, 
the  May  sun  shines  out,  the  May  evening  fades  ;  and  men  ply 
their  useful  or  useless  business  as  if  no  Louis  lay  in  danger. 

Dame  DubaiTV,  indeed,  might  pray,  if  she  had  a  talent  for 
it ;  Duke  d'Aiguillon  too,  Maupeou  and  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou  :  these,  as  they  sit  in  their  high  places,  with  France  har- 
nessed imder  their  feet,  know  well  on  what  basis  they  con- 
tinue there.  Look  to  it,  d'Aiguillon  ;  shai-ply  as  thou  didst 
from  the  Mill  of  St.  Cast,  on  Quiberon  and  the  invading  Eng- 
lish ;  thou  '  covered,  if  not  ^dth  glory,  yet  with  meal ! '  For- 
tune was  ever  accounted  inconstant :  and  each  dog  has  but 
his  day. 

Forlorn  enough  languished  Duke  d'Aiguillon,  some  years 
ago  ;  covered,  as  we  said,  with  meal ;  nay,  with  worse.  For 
La  Chalotais,  the  Breton  Parlementeer,  accused  him  not  only 
of  poltroneiy  and  tyranny,  but  even  of  concussion  (official 
plunder  of  money)  ;  which  accusations  it  was  easier  to  get 
'  quashed '  by  backstairs  Lafluences  than  to  get  answered : 
neither  could  the  thoughts,  or  even  the  tongues,  of  men  be 
tied.  Thus,  under  disastrous  eclipse,  had  this  grand-nephew 
of  the  gi-eat  Eichelieu  to  glide  about ;  unworshipped  by  the 
world  ;  resolute  Choiseul,  the  abrupt  proud  man,  disdaining 
him,  or  even  forgetting  him.  Little  prospect  but  to  glide 
into  Gascony,  to  rebuild  Chateaus  there,t  and  die  inglorious 

*  Memoires  de  M.  le  Baron  Besenval  (Paris,  1805),  ii.  59-90. 
f  Arthur  Young:  Travels  during  the  years  1787-88-89  (Bury  St.  Ed. 
muiid's,  1792),  i.  44. 


LOUIS  THE    WELL-BELOVED.  9 

killing  game !  However,  in  the  year  1770,  a  certain  young 
soldier,  Dumouriez  by  name,  returning  from  Corsica,  could 
see  '  with  sorrow,  at  Compic'gne,  the  old  King  of  France,  on 
'  foot,  with  doii'ed  hat,  in  sight  of  his  army,  at  the  side  of  a 
'  magnificent  phaeton,  doing  homage  to  the — Dubarry.'* 

Much  lay  therein  !  Thereby,  for  one  thing,  could  d'Aiguil- 
lon  postpone  the  rebuilding  of  his  Chateau,  and  rebuild  his 
fortunes  first.  For  stout  Choiseul  would  discern  in  the  Du- 
barry  nothing  but  a  wonderfully  dizened  Scarlet-woman  ;  and 
go  on  his  Avay  as  if  she  were  not.  Intolerable  :  the  source  of 
sighs,  tears,  of  pettiugs  and  jDoutings  ;  which  would  not  end 
till  '  France  '  (La  France,  as  she  named  her  royal  valet)  finally 
mustered  heart  to  see  Choiseul ;  and  with  that  '  quivering  in 
the  chin'  {tremblement  da  menton  natui-al  in  such  case),f  fal- 
tered out  a  dismissal :  dismissal  of  his  last  substantial  man, 
but  pacification  of  his  scarlet-woman.  Thus  d'Aiguillon  rose 
again,  and  culminated.  And  with  him  there  rose  Maupeou, 
the  bauisher  of  Parlements  ;  who  j)lants  you  a  refractory 
President  '  at  Croe  in  Combrailles,  on  the  top  of  steep  rocks, 
inaccessible  except  by  litters,'  there  to  consider  himself. 
Likewise  there  rose  Abbe  Terray,  dissolute  Financier,  papng 
eight-pence  in  the  shilling, — so  that  wits  exclaim  in  some  press 
at  the  playhouse,  "  Where  is  Abbe  TeiTay,  that  he  might 
reduce  us  to  two-thii-ds  ! "  And  so  have  these  individuals 
(verily  by  black-art)  built  them  a  Domdaniel,  or  enchanted 
Dubariydom ;  call  it  an  Armida-Palace,  where  they  dwell 
pleasantly  ;  Chancellor  Maupeou  'playing  blind-man's-buff' 
with  the  scarlet  Enchantress ;  or  gallantly  presenting  her 
with  dwarf  Negroes  ; — and  a  INIost  Christian  King  has  un- 
speakable peace  within  doors,  whatever  he  may  have  without. 
"My  Chancellor  is  a  scoundrel,  but  I  cannot  do  without  him."  J 

Beautiful  Armida  Palace,  where  the  inmates  live  enchanted 
lives  ;  lapped  in  soft  music  of  adulation  ;  waited  on  by  the 
splendours  of  the  world ;  which  nevertheless  hangs  won- 
drously  as  by  a  single  hair.     Should  the  Most  Christian  King 

*  La  Vie  et  les  Memoires  du  GcncTal  Dumouriez  (Paris,  1822). 

•f-  Besenval :  Memoires,  ii.  21. 

X  Dulaure  :  Histoire  de  Paris  (Paris,  1824),  vii.  328. 


10  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

die  ;  or  even  get  seriously  afraid  of  djing  !  For,  alas,  had 
not  the  fair  haughty  Chatearoux  to  fly,  with  wet  cheeks  and 
flaming  heart,  from  that  Fever-scene  at  Metz,  long  since ; 
driven  forth  by  soui-  shavelings?  She  hardly  returned, 
when  fever  and  shavelings  were  both  swept  into  the  back- 
ground. Pompadour  too,  when  Damiens  wounded  Koyalty 
*  shghtly  under  the  fifth  rib,'  and  om-  di-ive  to  Trianon  went 
off  futile,  in  shrieks  and  madly  shaken  torches, — had  to  pack, 
and  be  in  readiness  :  yet  did  not  go,  the  wound  not  x^i'oving 
poisoned.  For  his  Majesty  has  reHgious  faith ;  beHeves,  at 
least  in  a  Devil.  And  now  a  third  peril ;  and  who  knows 
what  may  be  in  it  ?  For  the  Doctors  look  grave  ;  ask  privily. 
If  his  Majesty  had  not  the  small-pox  long  ago  ?  and  doubt  it 
may  have  been  a  false  kind.  Yes,  Maupeou,  pucker  those 
sinister  brows  of  thine,  and  peer  out  on  it  with  thy  malign 
rat-eyes  :  it  is  a  ciuestionable  case.  Sure  only  that  man  is 
mortal ;  that  with  the  hfe  of  one  mortal  snaps  irrevocably  the 
wonderfullest  talisman,  and  all  Dubarrydom  rushes  off,  with 
tumult,  into  infinite  Space  ;  and  ye,  as  subterranean  Appaii- 
tions  are  wont,  vanish  utterly,— leading  only  a  smell  of  sul- 
phur ! 

These,  and  what  holds  of  these  may  pray, — to  Beelzebub,  or 
whoever  will  hear  them.  But  from  the  rest  of  France  there 
comes,  as  was  said,  no  prayer ;  or  one  of  an  ojyposite  character, 
•  expressed  openly  in  the  streets.'  Chateau  or  Hotel,  where 
an  enlightened  Philosophism  scrutinises  many  things,  is  not 
given  to  prayer :  neither  are  Eossbach  victories,  Terray  Fi- 
nances, nor,  say  only  '  sixty  thousand  Lettres  de  Cachet '  (which 
is  Maupeou's  share),  persuasives  towards  that.  O  Henault ! 
Prayers?  From  a  France  smitten  (by  black-art)  with  plague 
after  plague  ;  and  lying  now,  in  shame  and  pain,  with  a  Har- 
lot's foot  on  its  neck,  what  prayer  can  come  ?  Those  lank 
scarecrows,  that  prowl  hunger-stricken  thi-ough  all  highways 
and  byways  of  French  Existence,  will  they  pray  ?  The  dull 
millions  tliat,  in  the  workshop  or  furrowfield,  gi-ind  foredone 
at  the  wheel  of  Labour,  like  haltered  gin-horses,  if  bUnd  so 
much  the  quieter  ?     Or  they  that  in  the  Bicetre  Hospital, 


REALISED  IDEALS.  11 

*  eight  to  a  bed,'  lie  waiting  their  manumission  ?  Dim  are 
those  heads  of  theirs,  dull  stagnant  those  hearts  :  to  them  the 
great  Sovereign  is  known  mainly  as  the  great  Eegrater  of 
Bread.  If  they  hear  of  his  sickness,  they  "will  answer  with  a 
dull  Tant innpour  lui ;  or  with  the  question,  Will  he  die? 

Yes,  will  he  die?  that  is  now,  for  all  France,  the  gi-and 
question,  and  hope  ;  whereby  alone  the  King's  sickness  has 
still  some  interest. 


CHAPTER  n. 

EEALISED    IDEALS. 


Such  a  changed  France  have  we  ;  and  a  changed  Louis. 
Changed,  truly  ;  and  further  than  thou  yet  seest ! — To  the  eye 
of  History  many  things,  in  that  sick-room  of  Louis,  are  now 
visible,  which  to  the  Courtiers  there  present  were  invisible. 
For  indeed  it  is  well  said,  '  in  every  object  there  is  inexhausti- 
'  ble  meaning  ;  the  eye  sees  in  it  what  the  eye  brings  means 
'  of  seeing.'  To  Newton  and  to  Newton's  Dog  Diamond,  what 
a  different  pair  of  Universes  ;  while  the  painting  on  the  opti- 
cal retina  of  both  was,  most  likely,  the  same  !  Let  the  reader 
here,  in  this  sick-room  of  Louis,  endeavour  to  look  with  the 
mind  too. 

Time  was  when  men  could  (so  to  speak)  of  a  given  man,  by 
nourishing  and  decorating  him  with  fit  appliances,  to  the  due 
pitch,  make  themselves  a  King,  almost  as  the  Bees  do  :  and, 
what  was  still  more  to  the  purpose,  loyally  obey  him  when  made. 
The  man  so  nourished  and  decorated,  thenceforth  named  royal, 
does  verily  bear  rule  ;  and  is  said,  and  even  thought,  to  be, 
for  example,  'prosecuting  conquests  in  Flanders,'  when  he 
lets  himself  hke  luggage  be  carried  thither  :  and  no  light  lug- 
gage ;  covering  miles  of  road.  For  he  has  his  unblushing 
Chateauroux,  with  her  bandboxes  and  rouge-pots,  at  his  side ; 
so  that,  at  every  new  station,  a  wooden  gallery  must  be  run 
up  between  their  lodgings.  He  has  not  only  his  Maison- 
Bouche,  and  Vahtaille  without  end,  but  his  veiy  Troop  of 
Players,  with  their  pasteboard  coulisses,  thunder-ban'els,  their 


12  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

kettles,  fiddles,  stage-wardrobes,  portable  larders  (and  chaffert 
ing-  and  quarreling  enough)  ;  all  mounted  in  wagons,  tumbrils, 
second-hand  chaises, — sufficient  not  to  conquer  Flanders,  but 
the  patience  of  the  world.  With  such  a  flood  of  loud  jingling 
appurtenances  does  he  lumber  along,  prosecuting  his  conquests 
in  Flanders  :  wonderful  to  behold.  So  nevertheless  it  was 
and  had  been  :  to  some  solitary  thinker  it  might  seem  strange ; 
but  even  to  him,  inevitable,  not  unnatural. 

For  ours  is  a  most  fictile  world  ;  and  man  is  the  most  fiugent 
plastic  of  creatures.  A  world  not  fixable  ;  not  fathomable  !  An 
unfathomable  Somewhat,  which  is  Not  we;  which  we  can 
work  with,  and  live  amidst, — and  model,  miraculously  in  our 
miraculous  Being,  and  name  World. — But  if  the  very  Kocks 
and  Elvers  (as  metaph3"sic  teaches)  are,  in  strict  language, 
made  by  those  Outward  Senses  of  ours,  how  much  more,  by 
the  Inward  Sense,  are  all  Phenomena  of  the  spix-itual  kind : 
Dignities,  Authorities,  Holies,  Unholies  !  Which  inward  sense, 
moreover,  is  not  permanent  like  the  outward  ones,  but  forever 
growing  and  changing.  Does  not  the  Black  African  take  of 
Sticks  and  Old  Clothes  (say,  exported  Monmouth-Street  cast- 
clothes)  what  will  suffice  ;  and  of  these,  cunningly  combining 
them,  fabricate  for  himself  an  Eidolon  (Idol,  or  Thing  Seen) 
and  name  it  Mumho-Jumbo,  which  he  can  thenceforth  pray  to, 
with  upturned  awestruck  eye,  not  without  hope  ?  The  white 
European  mocks  ;  but  ought  rather  to  consider  ;  and  see 
whether  he,  at  home,  could  not  do  the  like  a  little  more  wisely. 

So  it  wan,  we  say,  in  those  conquests  of  Flanders,  thirty 
years  ago :  but  so  it  no  longer  is.  Alas,  much  more  lies 
sick  than  poor  Louis  :  not  the  French  King  only,  but  the 
French  Kingship  ;  this  too,  after  long  rough  tear  and  wear, 
is  breaking  down.  The  world  is  all  so  changed  ;  so  much 
that  seemed  vigorous  has  sunk  decrepit,  so  much  that  was  not 
is  beginning  to  be  ! — Borne  over  the  Atlantic,  to  the  closing 
ear  of  Louis,  King  by  the  Grace  of  God,  what  sounds  are 
these  ;  muffled-ominous,  new  in  our  centuries  ?  Boston  Har- 
bour is  black  with  unexpected  Tea  :  behold  a  Pennsylvanian 
Congress  gather  ;  and  ere  long,  on  Bunker  Hill,  Democracy 
announcing,   in  rifle-volleys   death-winged,  under  her   Star 


REALISED  IDEALS.  13 

Banner,  to  the  tune  of  Yankee-doodle-doo,  that  sLe  is  born, 
and,  whirlwindlike,  will  envelope  the  whole  world  ! 

Sovereigns  die  and  Sovereignties  :  how  all  dies,  and  is  for 
a  Time  only  ;  is  a  '  Time-j)hantasm,  yet  reckons  itself  real.' 
The  Merovingian  Kings,  slowly  wending  on  their  bullock- 
carts  through  the  streets  of  Paris,  with  their  long  hau*  flowing, 
have  all  wended  slowly  on, — into  Eternity.  Charlemagne 
sleeps  at  Salzburg,  with  truncheon  grounded  ;  only  Fable  ex- 
pecting that  he  will  awaken.  Charles  the  Hammer,  Pe^Din 
Bow-legged,  where  now  is  their  eye  of  menace,  their  voice  of 
command?  EoUo  and  his  shaggy  Northmen  cover  not  the 
Seine  with  ships  ;  but  have  sailed  off  on  a  longer  voyage. 
The  hair  of  Towhead  [TCte  cVitoupes)  now  needs  no  combing  ; 
Iron-cutter  {Talllefer)  cannot  cut  a  cobweb  ;  shrill  Frede- 
gonda,  shrill  Brunhilda  have  had  out  their  hot  life-scold, 
and  lie  silent,  their  hot  life -frenzy  cooled.  Neither  from  that 
black  Tower  de  Nesle,  descends  now  darkling  the  doomed 
gallant,  in  his  sack,  to  the  Seine  waters  ;  2:)lunging  into  Night : 
for  Dame  de  Nesle  now  cares  not  for  this  world's  gallantry, 
heeds  not  this  world's  scandal ;  Dame  de  Nesle  is  herself  gone 
into  Night.  They  all  are  gone  ;  sunk, — down,  down,  with 
the  tumult  they  made  ;  and  the  rolling  and  the  trampling  of 
ever  new  generations  passes  over  them  ;  and  they  hear  it  not 
any  more  forever. 

And  yet  withal  has  there  not  been  realised  somewhat? 
Consider  (to  go  no  further)  these  strong  Stone-edifices,  and 
what  they  hold  !  Mud-Town  of  the  Borderers  {Lutetia  Paris- 
iorum  or  Barisioriim)  has  paved  itself,  has  spread  over  all  the 
Seine  Islands,  and  far  and  wide  on  each  bank,  and  become 
City  of  Paris,  sometimes  boasting  to  be  'Athens  of  Eui'ope,' 
and  even  '  Capital  of  the  Universe.'  Stone  towers  fi'own 
aloft ;  long-lasting,  grim  with  a  thousand  years.  Cathedrals 
are  there,  and  a  Creed  (or  memory  of  a  Creed)  in  them  ; 
Palaces,  and  a  State  and  Law.  Thou  seest  the  Smoke-vapour  ; 
i«?iextinguished  Breath  as  of  a  thing  living.  Labour's  thou- 
sand hammers  ring  on  her  anvils  :  also  a  more  miraculous 
Labour  works  noiselesslv,  not  with  the  Hand  but  with  the 


14  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

Thought.  How  have  cunning  workmen  in  all  crafts,  with 
their  cunning  head  and  right-hand,  tamed  the  Four  Elements 
to  be  their  ministers ;  yoking  the  Winds  to  their  Sea  chariot, 
making  the  very  Stars  their  Nautical  Timepiece  ;— and  written 
and  collected  a  Biblioth^que  du  Jlui  ;  among  whose  Books  is 
the  Hebrew  Book  !  A  wondrous  race  of  creatures  ;  Ihese  have 
been  realised,  and  what  of  Skill  is  in  these  :  call  not  the  Past 
Time,  with  all  its  confused  wretchedness,  a  lost  one. 

Observe,  however,  that  of  man's  whole  terrestrial  j^osses- 
sions  and  attainments,  unspeakably  the  noblest  are  his 
Symbols,  divine  or  divine-seeming  ;  under  which  he  marches 
and  fights,  with  victorious  assurance,  in  this  life-battle  :  what 
we  can  call  his  Realised  Ideals.  Of  which  realized  Ideals, 
omitting  the  rest,  consider  only  these  two  :  his  Church,  or 
spiritual  Guidance  ;  his  Kingship,  or  temporal  one.  The 
Church  :  what  a  word  was  there  ;  richer  than  Golconda  and 
the  treasures  of  the  world  !  In  the  heart  of  the  remotest 
mountains  rises  the  little  Kirk  ;  the  Dead  all  slumbering 
round  it,  under  their  white  memorial-stones,  '  in  hope  of  a 
happy  resurrection  : '  dull  wert  thou,  O  Reader,  if  never  in 
any  hour  (say  of  moaning  midnight,  when  such  Kirk  hung 
spectral  in  the  sky,  and  Being  was  as  if  swallowed  uj)  of 
Darkness)  it  spoke  to  thee — things  unspeakable,  that  went  to 
thy  soul's  soul.  Strong  was  he  that  had  a  Chirfch,  what  we 
can  call  a  Church  :  he  stood  thereby,  though  '  in  the  centre  of 
Immensities  in  the  conflux  of  Eternities,'  yet  manlike  towards 
God  and  man  ;  the  vague  shoreless  Universe  had  become  for 
him  a  firm  city,  and  dwelling  which  he  knew.  Such  virtue 
was  in  Belief ;  in  these  words,  well  spoken  :  /  believe.  Well 
might  men  prize  their  Credo,  and  raise  stateliest  Temples  for 
it,  and  reverend  Hierarchies,  and  give  it  the  tithe  of  their 
substance  ;  it  was  worth  living  for  and  dying  for. 

Neither  was  that  an  inconsiderable  moment  when  wild 
armed  men  first  raised  their  Strongest  aloft  on  the  buckler^ 
throne  ;  and,  with  clanging  armour  and  hearts,  said  solemnly : 
Be  thou  our  Acknowledged  Strongest !  In  such  Acknowl- 
edged Strongest  (well  named  King,  Kon-nwg,  Can-ning,  or 
Man  that  was  Able)  what  a  Symbol  shone  now  for  them,^ 


REALISED  IDEALS.  15 

significant  with  the  destinies  of  the  world  I  A  Symbol  of  true 
Guidance  iu  return  for  loving  Obedience;  properly,  if  he 
knew  it,  the  prime  want  of  man.  A  Symbol  which  might  be 
called  sacred  ;  for  is  there  not,  in  reverence  for  what  is 
better  than  we,  an  indestructible  sacredness?  On  which 
gi-ound,  too,  it  was  well  said  there  lay  in  the  Acknowledged 
Strongest  a  divine  right;  as  surely  there  might  in  the 
Strongest,  whether  Acknowledged  or  not, — considering  who  it 
was  that  made  him  strong.  And  so,  in  the  midst  of  confu- 
sions and  unutterable  incongruities  (as  all  growth  is  con- 
fused), did  this  of  Eoyalty,  with  Loyalty  environing  it,  spring 
up  ;  and  grow  mysteriously,  subduing  and  assimilating  (for  a 
principle  of  Life  was  in  it) ;  till  it  also  had  grown  world-great, 
and  was  among  the  main  Facts  of  our  modern  existence. 
Such  a  Fact,  that  Louis  XIV.,  for  example,  could  answer 
the  expostulatory  Magistrate  with  his  "  U£tat  c'est  moi  (The 
State  ?  I  am  the  State) ; "  aild  be  replied  to  by  silence  and 
abashed  looks.  So  far  had  accident  and  forethought  ;  had 
your  Louis  Elevenths,  with  the  leaden  Virgin  in  their  hat- 
band, and  torture-wheels  and  conical  oubliettes  (man-eating !) 
under  their  feet ;  your  Henri  Fourths,  with  their  prophesied 
social  millennium  '  when  every  peasant  should  have  his  fowl 
in  the  pot;'  and  on  the  whole,  the  fertility  of  this  most  fertile 
Existence  (named  of  Good  and  Evil), — brought  it,  in  the 
matter  of  the  Kingship.  Wondrous  !  Concerning  which 
may  we  not  again  say,  that  in  the  huge  mass  of  Evil,  as  it 
rolls  and  swells,  there  is  ever  some  Good  working  imprisoned ; 
working  towards  deliverance  and  triumph  ? 

How  such  Ideals  do  realise  themselves ;  and  grow,  won- 
drously,  from  amid  the  incongruous  ever-fluctuating  chaos 
of  the  Actual ;  this  is  what  World-History,  if  it  teach  any 
thing,  has  to  teach  us.  How  they  grow ;  and,  after  long 
stormy  growth,  bloom  out  mature,  supreme  ;  then  quickly 
(for  the  blossom  is  brief)  fall  into  decay  ;  sorrowfully  dwindle  ; 
and  crumble  down,  or  rush  down,  noisily  or  noiselessly  disap- 
pearing. The  blossom  is  so  brief ;  as  of  some  centennial 
Cactus-flower,  which  after  a  century  of  waiting  shines  out  for 
hours  !     Thus  from  the  day  when  rough  Clovis,  in  the  Champ 


16  DEATU  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

cle  Mars,  in  siglit  of  his  wLole  army,  had  to  cleave  retribu- 
tively  the  head  of  that  rough  Frank,  with  sudden  battle-axe, 
and  the  fierce  words,  "  It  was  thus  thou  clavest  the  vase " 
(St.  Remi's  and  mine)  "  at  Soissons,"  forward  to  Louis  the 
Grand  and  his  L'£tat  c'est  moi,  we  count  some  twelve  hun- 
dred years  :  and  now  this  the  very  next  Louis  is  dying,  and 
so  much  dying  with  him  ! — Nay,  thus  too  if  Catholicism,  with 
and  against  Feudalism  (but  not  against  Nature  and  her 
bounty),  gave  us  English  a  ShakesiDeare  and  Era  of  Shakes- 
peare, and  so  produced  a  blossom  of  Catholicism — it  was  not 
till  Catholicism  itself,  so  far  as  Law  could  abolish  it,  had 
been  abolished  here. 

But  of  those  decadent  ages  in  which  no  Ideal  either  grows 
or  blossoms  ?  When  Belief  and  Loyalty  have  passed  away, 
and  only  the  cant  and  false  echo  of  them  remains  ;  and  all 
Solemnity  has  become  Pageantry  ;  and  the  Creed  of  persons 
in  authority  has  become  one  of  two  things  :  an  Imbecility  or 
a  Machiavelism  ?  Alas,  of  these  ages  World-History  can  take 
no  notice  ;  they  have  to  become  compressed  more  and  more, 
and  finally  suppressed  in  the  Annals  of  Mankind  ;  blotted  out 
as  spurious, — which  indeed  they  are.  Hapless  ages :  wherein, 
if  ever  in  any,  it  is  an  unhappiness  to  be  born.  To  be  born, 
and  to  learn  only,  by  every  tradition  and  example,  that  God's 
Universe  is  Belial's  and  a  Lie  ;  and  '  the  Supreme  Quack '  the 
hierarch  of  men  !  In  which  mournfullest  faith,  nevertheless, 
do  we  not  see  whole  generations  (two,  and  sometimes  even 
three  successively)  live,  what  they  call  living  ;  and  vanish,— 
without  chance  of  reappearance  ? 

In  such  a  decadent  age,  or  one  fast  verging  that  way,  had 
our  poor  Louis  been  born.  Grant  also  that  if  the  French 
Kingship  had  not,  by  course  of  Nature,  long  to  live,  he  of  all 
men  was  the  man  to  accelerate  Nature.  The  blossom  of 
French  Royalty,  cactus-like,  has  accordingly  made  an  aston- 
ishing progress.  In  those  Metz  days,  it  was  still  standing 
with  all  its  petals,  though  bedimmed  by  Orleans  Regents  and 
lioue  Ministers  and  Cardinals  ;  but  now,  in  1774,  we  behold 
it  bald,  and  the  virtue  nigh  gone  out  of  it. 

Disastrous  indeed  does  it  look  with  those  same  '  realised 


REALISED  IDEALS.  17 

Ideals,'  one  and  all!  The  Church,  which  m  its  j)almy  season, 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  could  make  an  Emperor  wait  bare- 
foot in  penance-shirt,  three  days,  in  the  snow,  has  for  cen- 
turies seen  itself  decaying ;  reduced  even  to  forget  old  pur- 
poses and  enmities,  and  join  interest  with  the  Kingship  :  on 
this  younger  strength  it  would  fain  stay  its  decrepitude  ;  and 
these  two  will  henceforth  stand  and  fall  together.  Alas,  the 
Sorbonne  still  sits  there,  in  its  old  mansion  ;  but  mumbles 
only  jargon  of  dotage,  and  no  longer  leads  the  consciences  of 
men  :  not  the  Sorbonne  ;  it  is  Eiwijdo'pkUes  Fhilomphie,  and 
who  knows  what  nameless  innumerable  multitude  of  ready 
Writers,  profane  Singers,  Romancers,  Players,  Disputators, 
and  Pamphleteers,  that  now  form  the  Spiritual  Guidance  of 
the  World.  The  world's  Practical  Guidance  too  is  lost,  or 
has  glided  into  the  same  miscellaneous  hands.  Who  is  it 
that  the  King  [Able-man,  named  also  lioi,  Rex,  or  Director) 
now  guides  ?  His  own  huntsmen  and  prickers  :  when  there  is 
to  be  no  hunt,  it  is  weU  said,  '  Le  lioi  nefera  rien  (To-day  his 
Majesty  will  do  nothing).'*  He  lives  and  lingers  there,  be- 
cause he  is  living  there,  and  none  has  yet  laid  hands  on  him. 
The  Nobles,  in  like  manner,  have  nearly  ceased  either  to 
guide  or  misguide  ;  and  ai-e  now,  as  their  master  is,  little 
more  than  ornamental  figures.  It  is  long  since  they  have 
done  with  butchering  one  another  or  their  King :  the  Workers, 
protected,  encouraged  by  Majesty,  have  ages  ago  built  walled 
towns,  and  there  j^ly  their  ci'afts  ;  will  permit  no  Eobber 
Baron  to  '  live  by  the  saddle,'  but  maintain  a  gallows  to  pre- 
vent it.  Ever  since  that  period  of  the  Fronde,  the  Noble  has 
changed  his  fighting  sw^ord  into  a  court  rapier  ;  and  now 
loyally  attends  his  King  as  ministering  satellite  ;  divides  the 
spoil,  not  now  by  violence  and  murder,  but  by  soliciting  and 
finesse.  These  men  call  themselves  supports  of  the  throne  : 
singular  gilt-pasteboard  caryatides  in  that  singular  edifice  ! 
For  the  rest,  their  privileges  every  way  are  now  much  cur- 
tailed. That  Law  authorising  a  Seigneur,  as  he  returned 
from  hunting,  to  kill  not  more  than  two  Serfs,  and  refresh 

*  Memoires  sur  la  Vie  pvivee  de  Marie  Antoinette,  par  Madame  Cam- 
pan  (Paris,  1826),  i.  12. 
Vol.  I.-3 


IS  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

his  feet  in  tbeii*  warm  blood  and  bowels,  Las  fallen  into  ijer- 
feet  desuetude, — and  even  into  incredibility  ;  for  if  Deputy 
Lapoule  can  believe  in  it,  and  call  for  the  abrogation  of  it, 
so  cannot  we.*  No  Charolois,  for  these  last  fifty  years,  though 
never  so  fond  of  shooting,  has  been  in  use  to  bring  down 
slaters  and  plumbers,  and  see  them  roll  from  their  roofs  ;  f 
but  contents  himself  with  partridges  and  grouse.  Close- 
viewed,  their  industry  and  function  is  that  of  dressing  grace- 
fully and  eating  sumptuousl}'.  As  for  their  debauchery  and 
their  depravity,  it  is  perhaps  miexampled  since  the  era  of 
Tiberius  and  Commodus.  Nevertheless,  one  has  still  partly  a 
feeling  with  the  lady  Marechale  :  "  Depend  upon  it,  Sir, 
God  thinks  twice  before  damning  a  man  of  that  quality. '"J; 
These  people,  of  old,  surely  had  virtues,  uses  ;  or  they  could 
not  have  been  there.  Nay,  one  virtue  they  are  still  required 
to  have  (for  mortal  man  cannot  live  without  a  conscience): 
the  virtue  of  perfect  readiness  to  fight  duels. 

Such  are  the  shepherds  of  the  peoj^le  :  and  now  how  fares 
it  with  the  flock  ?  "With  the  flock,  as  is  inevitable,  it  fares  ill, 
and  ever  worse.  They  are  not  tended,  they  are  only  regularly 
shorn.  They  are  sent  for,  to  do  statute-laboui-,  to  pay  statute 
taxes ;  to  fatten  battle-fields  (named  '  bed  of  honour ')  with 
their  bodies,  in  quarrels  which  are  not  theirs  ;  theu'  hand  and 
toil  is  in  every  possession  of  man  ;  but  for  themselves  they 
have  httle  or  no  possession.  Untaught,  uncomforted,  unfed  ; 
to  pine  stagnantly  in  thick  obscuration,  in  squalid  destitution 
and  obstruction :  this  is  the  lot  of  the  millions  ;  ^;e«/j>/e  tail- 
lable  et  coroeable  d  merci  et  misericorde.  In  Brittany  they 
once  rose  in  revolt  at  the  first  introduction  of  Pendulum 
Clocks  ;  thinking  it  had  something  to  do  with  the  Gabellc. 
Paris  requires  to  be  cleared  out  periodically  by  the  pohce  ; 
and  the  horde  of  hunger-stricken  vagabonds  to  be  sent  wan- 
dering again  over  space — for  a  time.     '  During  one  such  peri- 

*  Histoire  de  la  Revolution  rran9aise,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberte 
(Paris,  1792),  ii.  212. 

f  Lacretelle  :  Histoire  de  France  pendant  le  18'*'-'  Siecle  (Paris,  1819), 
i  271. 

X  Dulaure,  vii.  261. 


BEALISED  IDEALS.  19 

'odical  clearance,'  says  Lacretelle,  '  in  May,  1750,  the  Police 
'had  presumed  withal  to  carry  off  some  reputable  people's 
'  children,  in  the  hope  of  extorting  ransoms  for  them.  The 
'  mothers  fill  the  public  places  with  cries  of  despair  ;  crowds 
'  gather,  get  excited  ;  so  many  women  in  distraction  run 
'  about  exaggerating  the  alarm  :  an  absurd  and  horrid  fable 
'rises  among  the  people  ;  it  is  said  that  the  Doctors  have  or- 
'  dered  a  Great  Person  to  take  baths  of  young  human  blood 
'  for  the  restoration  of  his  own,  all  spoiled  by  debaucheries. 
'Some  of  the  rioters,'  adds  Lacretelle,  quite  coolly, 'wei-e 
'  hanged  on  the  following  days  : '  the  Police  went  on,*  O  ye 
poor  naked  wretches !  and  this  then  is  your  inarticulate  cry 
to  Heaven,  as  of  a  dumb  tortured  animal,  crying  from  utter- 
most depths  of  pain  and  debasement !  Do  these  azure  skies, 
like  a  dead  crystalline  vault,  only  reverberate  the  echo  of  it 
on  you  ?  Respond  to  it  only  by  '  hanging  on  the  following 
da}' s  ? ' — Not  so  :  not  forever  !  Ye  ai'e  heard  in  Heaven. 
And  the  answer  too  will  come, — in  a  horror  of  great  darkness, 
and  shakings  of  the  world,  and  a  cup  of  trembling  which  all 
the  nations  shall  drink. 

Remark,  meanwhile,  how  from  amid  the  wrecks  and  dust  of 
this  universal  Decay  new  Powers  are  fashioning  themselves, 
adapted  to  the  new  time,  and  its  destinies.  Besides  the 
old  Noblesse,  originally  of  Fighters,  there  is  a  new  recognised 
Noblesse  of  Law^^ers  ;  whose  gala-daj^  and  proud  battle-day 
even  now  is.  An  unrecognised  Noblesse  of  Commerce  ;  pow- 
erful enough,  with  money  in  its  pocket.  Lastly,  powerfullest 
of  aU,  least  recognised  of  all,  a  Noblesse  of  Literature  ;  with- 
out steel  on  their  thigh,  without  gold  in  their  purse,  but  with 
the  '  grand  thaumaturgic  faculty  of  Thought,'  in  theii-  head. 
French  Philosophism  has  arisen  ;  in  which  little  word  how 
much  do  we  include !  Here,  indeed,  lies  j)roperly  the  car- 
dinal symptom  of  the  whole  wide-spread  malady.  Faith  is 
gone  out  ;  Scepticism  is  come  in.  Evil  abounds  and  accumu- 
lates ;  no  man  has  Faith  to  withstand  it,  to  amend  it,  to  begin 
by  amending  himself ;  it  must  even  go  on  accumulating. 
While  hollow  languor  and  vacuity  is  the  lot  of  the  Upper,  and 
*  Lacretelle,  iii.  175. 


20  DEATH  OF  LOULS  XV. 

want  and  stagnation  of  the  Lower,  and  universal  misery  is  vei-;^ 
certain,  what  other  thing  is  certain  ?  That  a  Lie  cannot  be 
believed  !  Philosophism  knows  only  this  :  her  other  Belief 
is  mainly  that,  in  spii'itual  sujDersensual  matters,  no  belief  is 
possible.  Unhappy  !  Nay,  as  yet  the  Contradiction  of  a  Lie 
is  some  kind  of  Belief ;  but  the  Lie  with  its  Contradiction 
once  swept  away,  what  will  remain?  The  five  unsatiated 
senses  will  remain,  the  sixth  insatiable  Sense  (of  Vanity)  ;  the 
whole  dcemonic  nature  of  man  will  remain, — hmied  foiih  to 
rage  blindly  without  rule  or  rein  ;  savage  itself,  jet  with  all  the 
tools  and  weajoons  of  ci-silisation  :  a  spectacle  new  in  Histoiy. 

In  such  a  France,  as  in  a  Powder-tower,  where  fire  un- 
quenched  and  now  unquenchable  is  smoking  and  smouldering 
all  round,  has  Louis  XY.  lain  down  to  die.  With  Pompadour- 
ism  and  Dubarryism,  his  Fleur-de-lis  has  been  shamefully 
struck  down  in  all  lauds  and  on  all  seas  ;  Poverty  invades  even 
the  Royal  Exchequer,  and  Tax-farming  can  squeeze  out  no 
more  ;  there  is  a  quarrel  of  twenty-five  years'  standing  with 
the  Parlement ;  eveiy  Avhere  Want,  Dishonesty,  Unbelief,  and 
hot-brained  Sciolists  for  state-physicians  :  it  is  a  portentous 
hour. 

Such  things  can  the  eye  of  History  see  in  this  sick-room  of 
King  Louis,  which  were  in'ST.sible  to  the  Coui'tiers  there.  It 
is  twenty  years,  gone  Chiistmas-day,  since  Lord  Chesterfield, 
summing  up  what  he  had  noted  of  this  same  France,  wTote,  and 
sent  off  by  post,  the  followiug  words,  that  have  become  mem- 
orable :  '  In  short,  all  the  s^Tuptoms  which  I  have  ever  met 
'  with  in  History,  pre^vious  to  great  Changes  and  Revolutions 
*  in  Government,  now  exist  and  daily  increase  in  France.'  * 


CHAPTER  m. 

VL\TICOI. 

For  the  present,  however,  the  grand  question  with  the  Gov- 
ernors of  France  is :  Shall  extreme  unction,  or  other  ghostly 
viaticum  (to  Louis,  not  to  France),  be  administered? 

It  is  a  deep  question.  For,  if  administered,  if  so  much  as 
*  Chesterfield's  Letters,  December  25th,  1753. 


VIATICUM.  21 

spoken  of,  must  not,  on  the  very  thresliold  of  the  business, 
Witch  Dubariy  vanish  ;  hardly  to  return  should  Louis  even 
recover  ?  With  her  vanishes  Duke  d'Aiguillon  and  Company, 
and  all  their  Armida  Palace,  as  was  said  ;  Chaos  swallows  the 
w^hole  again,  and  there  is  left  nothing  but  a  smell  of  brimstone. 
But  then  on  the  other  hand,  what  will  the  Dauphinists  and 
Choiseulists  say  ?  Na}^  what  may  the  royal  martyr  himself 
say,  should  he  happen  to  get  deadly  worse  without  getting 
delirious  ?  For  the  present,  he  still  kisses  the  Dubarry  hand  ; 
so  we,  from  the  anteroom,  can  note  :  but  afterwards  ?  Doc- 
tors' Bulletins  may  run  as  they  are  ordered,  but  it  is  '  conflu- 
ent small-pox,' — of  which,  as  is  whispered  too,  the  Gatekeeper's 
once  so  buxom  Daughter  lies  ill :  and  Louis  XV.  is  not  a  man 
to  be  trifled  with  in  his  viaticum.  Was  he  not  wont  to  cate- 
chise his  very  girls  in  the  Farc-aux-cerfs,  and  pray  with  and 
for  them,  that  they  might  pi-eserve  their — orthodoxy?*  A 
stx-ange  fact,  not  an  unexampled  one  ;  for  there  is  no  animal 
so  strange  as  man. 

For  the  moment,  indeed,  it  were  all  well,  could  Archbishop 
Beaumont  but  be  prevailed  upon — to  wink  with  one  eye  ! 
Alas,  Beaumont  would  himself  so  fain  do  it :  for  singular  to 
tell,  the  Church  too,  and  whole  jiosthumous  hope  of  Jesuit- 
ism, now  hangs  by  the  apron  of  this  same  unmentionable 
W^oman.  But  then,  '  the  force  of  pubhc  opinion  ? '  Rigorous 
Christophe  de  Beaumont,  who  has  S2:)ent  his  life  in  persecut- 
ing hysterical  Jausenists,  and  incredulous  Non-confessors  ;  or 
even  their  dead  bodies,  if  no  better  might  be, — how  shall  he 
now  open  Heaven's  gate,  and  give  Absolution  with  the  cor- 
pus delicti  still  under  his  nose?  Our  Grand- Aim  oner  Roche- 
Aymon,  for  his  part,  will  not  higgle  with  a  royal  sinner  about 
turning  of  the  key  :  but  there  are  other  Churchmen  ;  there  is 
a  King's  Confessor,  foolish  Abbe  Moudon  ;  and  Fanaticism 
and  Decency  are  not  yet  extinct.  On  the  whole,  what  is  to 
be  done  ?  The  doors  can  be  well  watched  ;  the  Medical  Bul- 
letin adjusted  ;  and  much  as  usual,  be  hoped  for  from  time 
and  chance. 

The  dooi's  are  well  watched,  no  improj^er  figure  can  enter. 
"'     '    :re  (viii.  217);  Eesenval,  &«. 


23  DEATH   OF  LOUIS  XV. 

Indeed,  few  •wish  to  enter ;  for  the  j)utrid  infection  reaches 
even  to  the  (Eil  de  Bveuf ;  so  that  '  more  than  fifty  fall  sick, 
and  ten  die.'  Mesdames  the  Princesses  alone  wait  at  the 
loathsome  sick-bed  ;  impelled  by  filial  piety.  The  three  Prin- 
cesses, Graille,  Chiffe,  Coche  (Rag,  Snip,  Pig,  as  he  was  wont 
to  name  them),  are  assiduous  there  ;  when  aU  have  fled.  The 
fourth  Princess,  Loque  (Dud),  as  we  guess,  is  already  in  the 
Nunnery,  and  can  only  give  her  orisons.  Poor  Graille  and 
Sisterhood,  they  have  never  known  a  Father  ;  such  is  the  hard 
bargain  Grandeur'  must  make.  Scarcely  at  the  Debotter  (when 
Royalty  took  off  its  boots)  could  they  snatch  up  then-  '  enor- 
mous hoops,  gird  the  long  train  round  their  waists,  huddle 
on  their  black  cloaks  of  taffeta  up  to  the  very  chin  ; '  and  so, 
in  fit  appearance  of  full  dress,  '  every  evening  at  six,' walk 
majestically  in  ;  receive  their  royal  kiss  on  the  brow  ;  and 
then  walk  majestically  out  again,  to  embroidery,  small-scan- 
dal, prayers,  and  vacancy.  If  Majesty  came  some  morning, 
with  coffee  of  its  own  making,  and  swallowed  it  with  them 
hastily  while  the  dogs  were  uncoupling  for  the  hunt,  it  was 
received  as  a  grace  of  Heaven.*  Poor  withered  ancient  wom- 
en !  in  the  wild  tossings  that  yet  await  your  fragile  exist- 
ence, before  it  be  crushed  and  broken  ;  as  ye  fly  through  hos- 
tile countries,  over  tempestuous  seas,  are  almost  taken  by  the 
Turks  ;  and  wholly,  in  the  Sansculotic  Earthquake,  know  not 
your  right  hand  from  your  left,  be  this  always  an  assured 
place  in  your  remembrance  :  for  the  act  was  good  and  loving ! 
To  us  also  it  is  a  little  sunny  sj)ot,  in  that  dismal  howling 
waste,  where  we  hardly  find  another. 

Meanwhile,  Avhat  shall  an  impartial  prudent  Courtier  do  ? 
In  these  delicate  circumstances,  while  not  only  death  or  life, 
but  even  sacrament  or  no  sacrament,  is  a  question,  the  skil- 
fullest  may  falter.  Few  are  so  hajjpy  as  the  Duke  d'Orleans 
and  the  Prince  de  Conde  ;  who  can  themselves,  with  volatile 
salts,  attend  the  King's  antechamber ;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
send  their  brave  sons  (Duke  de  Chartres,  Egalite  that  is  to 
be ;  Duke  de  Bourbon,  one  day  Conde  too,  and  famous 
among  Dotards)  to  wait  upon  the  Dauj)hin.  With  another 
*  Cam  pan,  i.  11-30. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN.  23 

few,  it  is  a  resolution  taken  ;  jacta  est  alea.  Old  Richelieu, 
when  Archbishop  Beaumont,  driven  by  public  opinion,  is  at 
last  for  entering  the  sick-room, — will  twitch  him  by  the 
rochet,  into  a  recess ;  and  there,  with  his  old  dissipated  mas- 
tiff-face, and  the  oiliest  vehemence,  be  seen  pleading  (and 
even,  as  we  judge  by  Beaumont's  change  of  colour,  prevail- 
ing) '  that  the  King  be  not  killed  by  a  proposition  in  Divin- 
ity. Duke  Fronsac,  son  of  Richelieu,  can  follow  his  father  : 
when  the  Cure  of  Versailles  whimpers  something  about  sacra- 
ments, he  will  threaten. to  '  throw  him  out  the  window  if  he 
mention  such  a  thing.' 

Happy  these,  we  may  say  ;  but  to  the  rest  that  hover  be- 
tween two  opinions,  is  it  not  trying  ?  He  who  would  under- 
stand to  what  a  pass  Catholicism,  and  much  else,  had  now  got ; 
and  how  the  symbols  of  the  Holiest  have  become  gambling- 
dice  of  the  Basest, — must  read  the  narrative  of  those  things  by 
Besenval,  and  Soulavie,  and  the  other  Court  Newsmen  of  the 
time.  He  will  see  the  Versailles  Galaxy  ail  scattered  asrmder, 
grouped  into  new  ever-shifting  Constellations.  There  are 
nods  and  sagacious  glances  ;  go-betweens,  silk  dowagers  mys- 
teriously gliding,  with  smiles  for  this  constellation,  sighs  for 
that:  there  is  tremor,  of  hope  or  desperation,  in  several 
hearts.  There  is  the  pale  grinning  Shadow  of  Death,  cere- 
moniously ushered  along  by  another  grinning  Shadow,  of  Eti- 
quette :  at  intervals  the  growl  of  Chapel  Organs,  like  prayer 
by  machinery  ;  proclaiming,  as  in  a  kind  of  horrid  diabolic 
horse-laughter,  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  Vanity ! 


CHAPTER   IV. 


LOUIS  THE    UNFOBGOTTEN. 

Poor  Louis !  With  these  it  is  a  hollow  phantasmagory, 
where  like  mimes  they  mope  and  mowl,  and  utter  false  sounds 
for  hire  ;  but  with  thee  it  is  frightful  earnest. 

Frightful  to  all  men  is  Death  ;  from  of  old  named  King  of 
Terrors.  Our  little  compact  home  of  an  Existence,  where  we 
dwelt  complaining,  yet  as  in  a  home,  is  passing,  in  dark  ago- 


24  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

nies,  into  an  Unknown  of  Separation,  Foreignness,  uncondi« 
tioned  Possibility.  The  Heathen  Emperor  asks  of  his  soul : 
Into  what  places  art  thou  now  departing  ?  The  Catholic  King 
must  answer  :  To  the  Judgment-bar  of  the  Most  High  God  ! 
Yes,  it  is  a  summing  up  of  Life  ;  a  final  settling,  and  giving- 
in  the  '  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body  : '  they  are 
done  now ;  and  be  there  unalterable,  and  do  bear  their  fruits, 
long  as  Eternity  shall  last. 

Louis  XV.  had  always  the  kingliest  abhorrence  of  Death. 
Unlike  that  praying  Duke  of  Orleans,.  Egaliie's  grandfather, — 
for  indeed  several  of  them  had  a  touch  of  madness, — who 
honestly  believed  that  there  was  no  Death !  He,  if  the  Court 
Newsmen  can  be  believed,  started  up  once  on  a  time,  glowing 
with  sulphurous  contempt  and  indignation  on  his  poor  Secre- 
tary, who  ha  A  stumbled  on  the  words,  feu  roi  d'Es'pagne  (the 
late  King  of  Spain):  "Feu  roi,  Monaieurf — "  Monseig- 
neur,"  hastily  answered  the  trembling  but  adroit  man  of  busi- 
ness, "cent  line  litre  quils prennent  ('tis  a  title  they  take)."  * 
Louis,  we  say,  was  not  so  happy  ;  but  he  did  what  he  could. 
He  would  not  suffer  Death  to  be  sj)oken  of  ;  avoided  the 
sight  of  churchyards,  funereal  monuments,  and  whatsoever 
could  bring  it  to  mind.  It  is  the  resource  of  the  Ostrich  ; 
who,  hard  hunted,  sticks  his  foolish  head  in  the  ground,  and 
•would  fain  forget  that  his  foohsh  unseeing  body  is  not  un- 
seen too.  Or  sometimes,  with  a  spasmodic  antagonism,  sig- 
nificant of  the  same  thing,  and  of  more,  he  loould  go  ;  or  stop- 
ping his  court-carriages,  would  send  into  churchyards,  and 
ask  'how  mxny  new  graves  there  were  to-day,'  though  it 
gave  his  poor  Pompadour  the  disagreeablest  qualms.  We 
can  figure  the  thought  of  Louis  that  day,  when,  all  royally 
caparisoned  for  hunting,  he  met,  at  some  sudden  turning  in 
the  Wood  of  Senart,  a  ragged  Peasant  with  a  coffin :  "  For 
whom?" — It  was  for  a  poor  brother  slave,  whom  Majesty 
had  sometimes  noticed  slaving  in  those  quarters:  "What 
did  he  die  of?" — "Of  hunger:" — the  King  gave  his  steed 
the  spui'.f 

But  figure  his  thought,  when  Death  is  now  clutching  at  liis 
*  Bcsouval,  i.  199.  f  Campaii,  iii.  39. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEK  25 

o\ai  heart-strings ;  tmlooked  for,  inexorable !  Yes,  poor 
Louis,  Death  has  found  thee.  No  palace  walls  or  life-guards, 
gorgeous  tapestries  or  gilt  buckram  of  stiffest  ceremonial 
could  keep  him  out  ;  but  he  is  here,  here  at  thy  very  life- 
breath,  and  will  extinguish  it.  Thou,  whose  whole  existence 
hitherto  was  a  chimera  and  scenic  show,  at  length  becomest  a 
reality  :  sumptuous  Versailles  burst  asunder,  like  a  Dream, 
into  void  Immensity ;  Time  is  done,  and  all  the  scaffolding  of 
Time  falls  wrecked  with  hideous  clangour  round  thy  soul: 
the  pale  Kingdoms  yawn  open  ;  there  must  thou  enter,  naked, 
all  unking'd,  and  await  what  is  appointed  thee  !  Unhappy 
man,  there  as  thou  turnest,  in  dull  agony,  on  the  bed  of 
weariness,  what  a  thought  is  thine  !  Purgatory  and  HeUfire, 
now  all  too  possible,  in  the  prospect :  in  the  retrospect, — alas, 
what  thing  didst  thou  do  that  were  not  better  undone  ;  what 
mortal  didst  thou  generously  help  ;  what  sorrow  hadst  thou 
mercy  on?  Do  the  'five  hundred  thousand'  ghosts,  who 
sank  shamefully  on  so  many  battle-fields  from  Rossbach  to 
Quebec,  that  thy  Harlot  might  take  revenge  for  an  epigram, — 
crowd  round  thee  in  this  hour  ?  Thy  foul  Harem ;  the 
curses  of  mothers,  the  tears  and  infamy  of  daughters  ?  ]\Iis- 
erable  man  !  thou  '  hast  done  evil  as  thou  couldst ; '  thy 
whole  existence  seems  one  hideous  abortion  and  mistake  of 
Nature  ;  the  use  and  meaning  of  thee  not  yet  known.  Wert 
thou  a  fabulous  Grifiin,  devouring  the  works  of  men  ;  daily 
dragging  -virgins  to  thy  cave  ;  clad  also  in  scales  that  no  sjoear 
would  pierce  :  no  spear  but  Death's  ?  A  Griffin  not  fabulous 
but  real !  Frightful,  O  Louis,  seem  these  moments  for  thee. 
— We  will  pry  no  further  into  the  horrors  of  a  sinner's  death- 
bed. 

And  yet  let  no  meanest  man  lay  flattering  unction  to  his 
souL  Louis  was  a  Ruler  ;  but  art  not  thou  also  one  ?  His 
wide  France,  look  at  it  fi-om  the  Fixed  Stars  (themselves  not 
yet  Infinitude),  is  no  wider  than  thy  narrow  brickfield,  where 
thou  too  didst  faithfully,  or  didst  unfaithfully.  Man,  "Sym- 
bol of  Eternity  imprisoned  into  Time  !  "  it  is  not  thy  works, 
which  are  all  mortal,  infinitelv  little,   and   the   greatest  no 


2G  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

greater  tliau  the  least,  but  only  tlie  Spirit  tliou  workest  in, 
that  can  have  worth  or  continuance. 

But  reflect,  in  any  case,  what  a  life-jjroblem  this  of  pool 
Louis,  when  he  rose  as  Bien-Aime  from  that  Metz  sick-bed, 
really  was !  ^Tiat  son  of  Adam  could  have  swayed  such  in- 
coherences into  coherence?  Could  he?  BHndest  Fortune 
alone  has  cast  him  on  the  top  of  it :  he  swims  there  ;  can  as 
little  sway  it  as  the  dinft-log  sways  the  wind-tossed,  moon- 
stirred  Atlantic.  "  What  have  I  done  to  be  so  loved  ?  "  he 
said  then.  He  may  say  now :  What  have  I  done  to  be  so 
hated?  Thou  hast  done  nothing,  poor  Louis  !  Thy  fault  is 
properly  even  this,  that  thou  didst  nothing.  "WTiat  could  poor 
Louis  do?  Abdicate,  and  wash  his  hands  of  it, — in  favour  of 
the  first  that  would  accept !  Other  clear  wisdom  there  was 
none  for  him.  As  it  was,  he  stood  gazing  dubiously,  the 
absurdest  mortal  extant  (a  very  Solecism  Licamate)  into  the 
absui-dest  confused  world  ; — wherein  at  last  nothing  seemed 
so  certain  as  this.  That  he,  the  incaruate  Solecism,  had  five 
senses  ;  that  there  were  Flying  Tables  (Tables  Volantes,  which 
vanish  through  the  floor,  to  come  back  reloaded),  and  a 
Parc-aux-cerfs. 

Whereby  at  least  we  have  again  this  historical  curiosity  : 
a  human  being  in  an  original  position  ;  a  swimming  passively, 
as  on  some  boundless  '  Mother  of  Dead  Dogs,'  towards  issues 
which  he  partly  saw.  For  Louis  had  withal  a  kind  of  insight 
in  him.  So  when  a  new  IVIinister  of  Maiine,  or  what  else  it 
might  be,  came  announcing  his  new  era,  the  scarlet-woman 
would  hear  from  the  lips  of  Mnjesty  at  supper :  "  Yes,  he 
"  sj)read  out  his  ware  like  another  ;  promised  the  beautifullest 
"things  in  the  world  ;  not  a  thing  of  Avhich  will  come  :  he 
"does  not  know  this  region  ;  he  will  see."  Or  again  :  "  'Tis 
"  the  twentieth  time  I  have  heard  all  that ;  France  will  never 
"get  a  Navy,  I  believe."  How  touching  also  was  this  :  "If  i 
"  were  Lieutenant  of  Police,  I  would  prohibit  those  Pai'is 
"cabriolets."* 

Doomed  mortal ; — for  is  it  not  a  doom  to  be  Solecism  incar- 
nate ?  A  new  Boi  Faineant,  King  Donothing ;  but  with  the 
*  Journal  de  Mudame  du  Hausset,  p.  293,  etc. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFOEGOTTEN.  27 

strangest  new  Ifayor  of  ike  Palace  :  no  bow-legged  Pejiin 
now  for  Mayor,  but  that  same  cloud-cap t,  fire-breathing 
Sj)ectre  of  Dejiockacy  ;  incalculable,  which  is  enveloping  the 
world  ! — Was  Louis,  then,  no  wickeder  than  this  or  the  other 
private  Donothing  and  Eatall ;  such  as  we  often  enough  see, 
under  the  name  of  Man  of  Pleasure,  cumbering  God's  diligent 
Creation,  for  a  time  ?  Say,  wretcheder  !  His  Life-solecism 
was  seen  and  felt  of  a  whole  scandalised  world  ;  him  endless 
Oblivion  cannot  engulf,  and  swallow  to  endless  depths, — not 
yet  for  a  generation  or  two. 

However,  be  this  as  it  vnYl,  we  remark,  not  M'ithout  interest, 
that  'on  the  evening  of  the  4th,'  Dame  Dubarry  issues  from 
the  sick-room,  with  perceptible  'trouble  in  her  visage.'  It  is 
the  fourth  evening  of  May,  year  of  Grace  1774.  Such  a  whis- 
pering in  the  OEil-de-Boeuf  !  Is  he  dying  then  ?  What  can 
be  said,  is  that  Dubarry  seems  making  up  her  packages  ; 
she  sails  weeping  through  her  gilt  boudoirs,  as  if  taking 
leave.  D'Aiguillou  and  Company  are  near  their  last  card  ; 
nevertheless  they  will  not  j-et  throw  up  the  game.  But  as 
for  the  sacrameutal  controversy,  it  is  as  good  as  settled  Avith- 
out  being  mentioned  ;  Louis  sends  for  his  Abbe  Moudon  in 
the  course  of  next  night ;  is  confessed  by  him,  some  say  for 
the  space  of  '  seventeen  minutes,'  and  demands  the  sacraments 
of  his  own  accord. 

Nay  already,  in  the  afternoon,  behold,  is  not  this  your 
Sorceress  Dubarry  with  the  handkerchief  at  her  eyes,  mount- 
ing d'Aiguillon's  chai'iot ;  rolling  off  in  his  Duchess's  con- 
solatory arms?  She  is  gone  :  and  her  place  knows  her  no 
more.  Vanish,  false  Sorceress ;  into  Space !  Needless  to 
hover  at  neighbouring  Euel ;  for  thy  day  is  done.  Shut  are 
the  royal  palace-gates  for  evermore  ;  hardly  in  coming  years 
shalt  thou,  under  cloud  of  night,  descend  once,  in  black 
domino,  like  a  black  night-bird,  and  disturb  the  fair  An- 
toinette's music-party  in  the  Park  ;  all  Birds  of  Paradise  flying 
from  thee,  and  musical  wind-pipes  growing  mute.*  Thou 
unclean,  yet   unmalignant,    not   unpitiable   thing !     What  a 

*Ca:Tipan,  i.  197. 


28  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

course  was  tliinc  :  from  that  first  trucklebed  (in  Joan  of  Arc'« 
country)  where  thy  mother  bore  thee,  with  tears,  to  an  un- 
named father  ;  forward,  through  lowest  subterranean  depths, 
and  over  highest  sunht  heights,  of  Harlotdom  and  Rascal- 
dom— to  the  guillotine-axe,  which  sheers  away  thy  vainly 
whimpering  head !  Eest  there  uncursed ;  only  buried  and 
abolished  ;  what  else  befitted  thee  ? 

Louis,  meanwhile,  is  in  considerable  impatience  for  his 
sacraments ;  sends  more  than  once  to  the  window,  to  see 
Avhethcr  they  are  not  coming.  Be  of  comfort,  Louis,  what 
comfort  thou  canst :  they  are  under  way,  these  sacraments. 
Towards  six  in  the  morning,  they  arrive.  Cardinal  Gi-and- 
Almoner  Eoche-Aymon  is  here  in  pontificals,  with  his  pyxes 
and  his  tools :  he  approaches  the  royal  pillow  ;  elevates  his 
wafer ;  mutters  or  seems  to  mutter  somewhat ; — and  so  (as 
the  Abbe  Georgel,  in  words  that  stick  to  one,  expresses  it)  has 
Louis  'made  the  amende  honorable  to  God:'  so  does  your 
Jesuit  construe  it. — "  Wa,  TFa,"  as  the  wild  Clotaire  groaned 
out,  when  life  w\as  depai-ting,  "  what  great  God  is  this  that 
"pulls  down  the  strength  of  the  strongest  kings."  * 

The  amende  honorable,  what  'legal  apology 'you  will,  to 
God  : — but  not,  if  d'Aiguillon  can  help  it,  to  man.  Dubarry 
still  hovers  in  his  mansion  at  Ruel ;  and  while  there  is  hfe, 
there  is  hope.  Grand-Almoner  Eoche-Aymon,  accordingly 
(for  he  seems  to  be  in  the  secret),  has  no  sooner  seen  his 
pyxes  and  gear  repacked,  than  he  is  stepping  majestically 
forth  again,  as  if  the  work  were  done !  But  King's  Confessor 
Abbe  Moudon  starts  forward ;  with  anxious  acidulent  face, 
twitches  him  by  the  sleeve  ;  whispers  in  his  ear.  Whereupon 
the  poor  Cardinal  has  to  turn  round  ;  and  declare  audibly, 
"  that  his  Majesty  repents  of  any  subjects  of  scandal  he  may 
"have  given  (apzt  donner) ;  and  purjDoses,  by  the  strength  of 
"Heaven  assisting  him,  to  avoid  the  like — for  the  future  !  " 
Words  listened  to  by  Eichelieu  with  mastiflf-face  growing 
blacker;  and  answered  to,  aloud,  'with  an  epithet,' — which 
Besenval  will  not  repeat.     Old  Eichelieu,  conqueror  of  Min- 

*  Gregorius  Turoueiisis  :  Ilistor.  lib   iv.  cap.  21. 


LOUIS  THE  UNFORGOTTEN.  29 

orca,  companion  of  Flying-Table  orgies,   perforator  of  bed- 
room walls/'*  is  thy  day  also  done  ? 

Alas,  the  Chapel  organs  may  keep  going  ;  the  Shrine  oi 
Sainte  Genevieve  be  let  down,  and  pulled  up  again, — without 
effect.  In  the  evening  the  whole  Court,  with  Dauphin  and 
Dauphiuess  assist  at  the  Chapel :  priests  are  hoarse  with 
chanting  their  'Prayers  of  Forty  Hours;'  and  the  heaving 
bellows  blow.  Almost  frightfid !  For  the  very  Heaven 
blackens  ;  battering  rain-torrents  dash,  with  thunder  ;  almost 
drowning  the  organ's  voice  ;  and  electric  fire-flashes  make 
the  very  flambeaux  on  the  altar  pale.  So  that  the  most,  as 
we  are  told,  retired,  when  it  was  over,  with  hurried  steps, 
'in  a  state  of  medxiniion  {recueillement),'  and  said  httle  or 
nothing,  f 

So  it  has  lasted  for  the  better  half  of  a  fortnight ;  the  Du- 
barry  gone  almost  a  week.  Besenval  says,  all  the  world  was 
getting  impatient  5 «(?  celafimt;  that  poor  Louis  would  have 
done  vsdth  it.  It  is  now  the  10th  of  May,  1774.  He  will  soon 
have  done  now. 

This  tenth  May  day  falls  into  the  loathsome  sick-bed  ;  but 
dull,  unnoticed  there  :  for  they  that  look  out  of  the  windows 
are  quite  darkened  ;  the  cistern-wheel  moves  discordant  on 
its  axis  ;  Life,  like  a  spent  steed,  is  panting  towards  the  goal. 
In  their  remote  apartments,  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness,  stand 
road-ready  ;  all  grooms  and  equerries  booted  and  spurred  : 
waiting  for  some  signal  to  escape  the  house  of  pestilence.  | 
And,  hark  !    across   the    CEil-de-Boeuf,  what  sound  is  that ; 

*  Besenval,  i.  159-172.— Genlis  ;  Due  de  levis,  &c. 

f  Weber :  Memoires  concernant  Marie-Antoinette  (London,  1809),  i. 
22. 

JOne  grndges  to  interfere  with  the  heantiinl  theatrical  'candle,' 
which  Madame  Campan  (i.  79)  has  lit  on  this  occasion,  and  blown  ont 
at  the  moment  of  death.  What  candles  might  be  lit  or  blown  out,  in 
so  large  an  Establishment  as  that  of  Versailles,  no  man  at  such  distance 
would  like  to  affirm:  at  the  same  time,  as  it  was  two  o'clock  in  a  May- 
Afternoon  ;  and  these  royal  Stables  must  have  been  some  five  or  six 
hundred  yards  from  the  royal  sick-room,  the  '  candle  '  does  threaten  to 
go  out  in  spite  of  us.  It  remains  burning  indeed— in  her  fantasy  ; 
throwing  light  on  much  in  those  Memoires  of  hers. 


30  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

sound  '  terrible  aud  absolutely  like  tliuuder  ?  '  It  is  the  rush, 
ot"  the  whole  Court,  rushing  as  iu  wager,  to  salute  the  new 
Sovereigns  :  Hail  to  your  Majesties !  The  Dauphiu  and 
Dauphiuess  are  luug  and  Queen !  Overpowered  with  many 
emotions,  they  two  fall  on  their  knees  tog^her,  and,  with 
streaming  tears,  exclaim  :  "O  God  guide  us,  protect  us,  we 
are  too  young  to  reign  !  " — Too  young  indeed. 

But  thus,  iu  any  case,  '  with  a  sound  absolutely  like  thun- 
der,' has  the  Horologe  of  Time  struck,  and  an  old  Era  passed 
away.  The  Louis  that  was,  lies  forsaken,  a  mass  of  abhon-ed 
clay ;  abandoned  '  to  some  poor  persons,  and  priests  of  the 
Chapelle  Ardente,' — who  make  haste  to  put  him  'in  two  lead 
coffins,  pouring  in  abundant  spirits  of  wine.'  The  new  Louis 
with  his  Court  is  rolling  towards  Choisy,  through  the  summer 
afternoon  :  the  royal  tears  still  flow  ;  but  a  word  misj^ro- 
nounced  by  Monseigneur  d'Artois  sets  them  all  laughing,  and 
they  weep  no  more.  Light  mortals,  how  ye  walk  your  light 
life-minuet,  over  bottomless  abysses,  divided  from  you  by  a 
fihn! 

For  the  rest,  the  proper  authorities  felt  that  no  Funeral 
could  be  too  unceremonious.  Besenval  himself  thinks  it  was 
unceremonious  enough.  Two  carriages  containing  two  noble- 
men of  the  usher  species,  and  a  Versailles  clerical  person  ; 
some  score  of  mounted  images,  some  fifty  palfreniers  :  these, 
with  torches,  but  not  so  much  as  in  black,  start  fi'om  Ver- 
sailles on  the  second  evening,  with  their  leaden  bier.  At  a 
high  trot,  they  start ;  and  keep  up  that  pace.  For  the  jibes 
{brocarch)  of  those  Parisians,  who  stand  jDlanted  iu  two  rows, 
all  the  way  to  St  Danis,  and  '  give  vent  to  their  pleasantry, 
the  characteristic  of  the  nation,'  do  not  tempt  one  to  slacken. 
Towards  midnight  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis  receive  their  own  : 
unwept  by  any  eye  of  all  these  ;  if  not  by  poor  Loque  his  neg- 
lected Daughter's,  whose  Nunnery  is  hard  by. 

Him  tliey  crush  down,  and  huddle  under-ground,  in  this 
impatient  way ;  him  and  his  era  of  sin  and  tyranny  and 
shame :  for  behold  a  New  Era  is  come ;  the  future  all  the 
brighter  that  the  past  was  base. 


BOOK  11. 
TEE  PAPER  AGE. 

CHAPTER  I 

ASTKJ2A     REDUX. 

A  p.\E.vDOXicAii  philosopher,  carrying  to  the  uttermost  length 
that  aphorism  of  Montesquieu's,  'Happy  the  people  whose 
anuals  are  tiresome,'  has  said,  '  Happy  the  people  whose  an- 
nals are  vacant.'  In  which  saying,  mad  as  it  looks,  may  there 
not  still  be  found  some  grain  of  reason  V  For  truly,  as  it  has 
been  written,  '  Silence  is  divine,  and  of  Heaven  ; '  so  iu  all 
earthly  things  too  there  is  a  silence  which  is  better  than  any 
speech.  Consider  it  well,  the  Eveut,  the  thing  which  can  be 
spoken  of  and  recorded,  is  it  not,  in  all  cases,  some  disruption, 
some  solution  of  continuity?  Were  it  even  a  glad  Event,  it 
involves  change,  involves  loss  (of  active  Force)  ;  and  so  far, 
either  in  the  jDast  or  in  the  j^resent,  is  an  irregularity,  a  dis- 
ease. Stillest  perseverance  were  our  blessedness  ;  not  dislo- 
cation and  alteration, — could  they  be  avoided. 

The  oak  grows  silently,  in  the  forest,  a  thousand  yeai's; 
only  in  the  thousandth  year,  when  the  woodman  arrives  with 
his  axe,  is  there  heard  an  echoing  through  the  solitudes  ;  and. 
the  oak  announces  itself  when,  with  far  sounding  crash,  it 
falls.  How  silent  too  was  the  planting  of  the  acorn  ;  scat- 
tered from  the  lap  of  some  wandering  wind  !  Nay,  when  our 
oak  flowered,  or  put  on  its  leaves  (its  glad  Events),  what  shout 
of  proclamation  could  there  be  ?  Hardly  from  the  most  ob- 
servant a  word  of  recognition.  These  things  hefel  not,  they 
were  slowly  done  ;  not  iu  an  hour,  but  through  the   flight  of 


32  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

days :  what  was  to  be  said  of   it  ?     This  hour  seemed  alto- 
gether as  the  last  was,  as  the  next  would  he. 

It  is  thus  everywhere  that  foohsh  Euiuour  babbles  not  of 
wliat  was  done,  but  of  what  was  misdone  or  undone  ;  and 
foolish  History  (eA^er,  more  or  less,  the  WTitten  epitomised 
synopsis  of  Kumour)  knows  so  Httle  that  Avere  not  as  well 
uukuown,  Attila  Invasions,  Walter-the-Peuniless  Crusades, 
Sicilian  Vespers,  Thirty  Years'  Wars  :  mere  sin  and  misery  ; 
not  work,  but  hiuderance  of  work  !  For  the  Earth,  all  this 
while,  was  yearly  green  and  yellow  with  her  kind  harvests  ; 
the  hand  of  the  craftsman,  the  mind  of  the  thinker  rested  not : 
and  so,  after  all,  and  in  spite  of  all,  we  have  this  so  glorious 
high-domed  blossoming  World  ;  concerning  which,  poor  His- 
tory may  well  ask,  with  wonder.  Whence  il  came  ?  She  knows 
BO  little  of  it,  knows  so  much  of  what  obstructed  it,  what 
would  have  rendered  it  impossible.  Such,  nevertheless,  by 
necessity  or  foolish  choice,  is  her  rule  and  i)ractice  ;  whereby 
that  paradox,  '  Happy  the  people  whose  annals  are  vacant,' 
is  not  without  its  true  side. 

And  yet,  what  seems  more  pertinent  to  note  here,  there  is  a 
stillness,  not  of  unobstructed  growth,  but  of  passive  inertness, 
the  symptom  of  imminent  downfall.  As  victory  is  silent,  so 
is  defeat.  Of  the  opposing  forces  the  weaker  has  resigned  it- 
self ;  the  stronger  marches  on,  noiseless  now,  but  rapid,  in- 
evitable :  the  fall  and  overturn  will  not  be  noiseless.  How  all 
grows,  and  has  its  period,  even  as  the  herbs  of  the  fields,  be  it 
annual,  centennial,  millennial !  All  grows  and  dies,  each  by 
its  own  wondrous  laws,  in  wondrous  fashion  of  its  ow^n  ;  spir- 
itual things  most  w^ondrously  of  all.  Inscrutable,  to  the  wisest, 
are  these  latter  ;  not  to  bo  jirophesied  of,  or  understood.  If 
when  the  oak  stands  i^roudliest  flourishing  to  the  eye,  you 
know  that  its  heart  is  sound,  it  is  not  so  with  the  man  ;  how 
much  less  with  the  Society,  with  the  Nation  of  men  !  Of  such 
it  may  be  affirmed  even  that  the  superficial  aspect,  that  the 
inward  feeling  of  full  health,  is  generally  ominous.  For  in- 
deed it  is  of  apoplexy,  so  to  speak,  and  a  plethoric  lazy  habit 
of    body,    that  Churches,  Kingships,  Social  Institutions,  of- 


ASTUTE  A    REDUX.  33 

teuest  die.  Sad,  when  sucb  Institution  j)lethorically  says  to 
itself,  Take  thy  ease,  thou  hast  goods  laid  up  ;  like  the  fool 
of  the  Gospel,  to  whom  it  Avas  answered,  Fool,  this  night  thy 
life  shall  be  required  of  thee  ! 

!^  it  the  healthy  peace,  or  the  ominous  unhealthy,  that  rests 
on  France,  for  these  next  Ten  Years  ?  Over  which  the  His- 
torian can  pass  lightl}^,  without  call  to  linger :  for  as  yet 
events  are  not,  much  less  performances.  Time  of  sunniest 
stillness; — shall  we  call  it,  what  all  men  thought  it,  the  new 
Age  of  Gold  ?  Call  it  at  least  of  Paper  ;  which  in  many  ways, 
is  the  succedaneum  of  Gold,  Bank-paper,  wherewith  you  can 
still  buy  when  there  is  no  gold  left ;  Book-paper,  splendent 
with  Theories,  Philosophies,  Sensibilities, — beautiful  art,  not 
only  of  revealing  thought,  but  also  of  so  beautifully  hiding 
from  us  the  want  of  Thought :  Paj^er  is  made  from  the  rags 
of  things  that  did  once  exist ;  there  are  endless  excellences  in 
Paper. — What  wisest  Philosophe,  in  this  halcyon  uneventful 
period,  could  i^rophesy  that  there  was  appi-oaching,  big  Avith 
darkness  and  confusion,  the  event  of  events  ?  Hope  ushers 
in  a  Esvolution, — as  earthquakes  are  preceded  by  bright 
weather.  On  the  Fifth  of  May,  fifteen  years  hence,  old  Louis 
will  not  be  sending  for  the  Sacraments  ;  but  a  new  Louis, 
his  grandson,  with  the  whole  pomp  of  astonished,  intoxicated 
France,  will  be  opening  the  States  General. 

Dubarrydom  and  its  d'Aiguillons  are  gone  forever.  There 
is  a  young,  still  docile,  well-intentioned  King  ;  a  young,  beau- 
tiful, and  bountiful,  well-intentioned  Queen  ;  and  with  them 
all  France,  as  it  were,  become  young.  Maupeou  and  his 
Parlement  have  to  vanish  into  thick  night ;  respectable  Mag- 
istrates, not  indifferent  to  the  Nation,  were  it  only  for  having 
been  opponents  of  the  Court,  descend  now  unchained  from 
their  '  steep  rocks  at  Croe  in  Combrailles  '  and  elsewhere,  and 
return  singing  praises  :  the  old  Parlement  of  Paris  resumes 
its  functions.  Instead  of  a  profligate  bankrupt  Abbe  Terray, 
we  have  now,  for  Controller-General,  a  virtuous  philosophic 
Target,  with  a  whole  Reformed  France  in  his  head.  By  whom 
whatsoever  is  wrong,  in  Finance  or  otherwise,  will  be  righted, 
—as  far  as  possible.  Is  it  not  as  if  Wisdom  herself  were  heuce- 
VoL.  1.— 3 


34  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

forth  to  have  seat  and  voice  in  the  Council  of  Kings  ?  Turgot 
has  taken  office  with  the  noblest  plainness  of  speech  to  that 
effect  ;  been  listened  to  with  the  noblest  royal  trustfulness.* 
It  is  true,  as  King  Louis  objects,  "  they  say  he  never  goes  to 
mass  ; "  but  liberal  France  likes  him  httle  worse  for  that ;  li^)- 
eral  France  answers,  "the  Abbe  Terray  always  went."  Phi- 
losophism  sees,  for  the  first  time,  a  Philosophe  (or  even  a  Phi- 
losopher) in  office  :  she  in  aU  things  will  applausively  second 
him  ;  neither  will  light  old  Maurepas  obstruct,  if  he  can  easily 
help  it. 

Then  how  '  sweet '  are  the  manners  ;  vice  '  losing  all  its  de- 
formity ; '  becoming  f/ece?3^  (as  established  thiiigs,  making  regu- 
lations for  themselves,  do) ;  becoming  almost  a  kind  of  '  sweet ' 
vii'tue  !  Intelligence  so  abounds  irradiated  by  wit  and  the  art 
pf  conversation.  Philosophism  sits  joyful  in  her  glittering 
saloons,  the  dinner-guest  of  Opulence  grown  ingenuous,  the 
very  Nobles  j^roud  to  sit  by  her  ;  and  preaches,  lifted  up  over 
aU  Bastilles,  a  coming  millennium.  From  far  Ferney,  Patri- 
arch Voltaire  gives  sign  :  veterans  Diderot,  d'Alembert  have 
lived  to  see  this  day ;  these  with  their  younger  Marmontels, 
Morellets,  Chamforts,  Eaynals,  make  glad  the  spicy  board  of 
rich  ministering  Dowager,  of  philosophic  Farmer-General. 
O  nights  and  suj)pers  of  the  gods  !  Of  a  truth,  the  long-demon- 
strated will  now  be  done  ;  '  the  Age  of  Eevolutions  approaches ' 
(as  Jean  Jacques  wi'ote),  but  then  of  happy  blessed  ones.  Man 
awakens  from  his  long  somnambuhsm  ;  chases  the  Fantasms 
that  beleaguered  and  bewi 'ched  him.  Behold  the  new  morn ing 
glittering  down  the  eastern  steeps ;  fly,  false  Fantasms,  from 
its  sliafts  of  light  ;  let  the  Absurd  fly  utterly  forsaking  this 
lower  earth  forever.  It  is  Truth  and  Astram  Redux  that  (in 
the  shape  of  Philosophism)  henceforth  reign.  For  what  im- 
aginable purpose  was  man  made,  if  not  to  be  '  happy  ? '  By 
victorious  Analysis,  and  Progress  of  the  Species,  happiness 
enough  now  awaits  him.  Kings  can  become  philosophers ;  or 
else  philosophers  Kings.  Let  but  Society  be  once  rightly 
constituted, — by  victorious  Analysis.     The  stomach  that  is 

*  Turgot's  Letter :  Condoroet,  Vie  de  Turgot  (CEuvr  iS  de  Coudorcet, 
t.  V.)  p.  67.     The  date  is  24tli  of  August,  1774. 


ASTHMA    REBUX.  .  60 

empty  shall  be  filled  ;  the  throat  that  is  dry  shall  be  wetted 
with  wiue.  Labour  itself  shall  be  all  one  as  rest  ;  not  griev- 
ous, but  joyous.  Wheat-fields,  one  would  think,  cannot  come 
to  grow  untilled  ;  no  man  made  clayey,  or  made  weary  there- 
by ;— unless,  indeed,  machinery  will  do  it  ?  Gratuitous  Tail- 
ors and  Restaurateurs  may  start  up,  at  fit  intervals,  one  as  yet 
sees  not  how.  But  if  each  will,  according  to  rule  of  Benevo- 
lence, have  a  care  for  all,  then  surely — no  one  will  be  un-cared 
for.  Nay,  who  knows  but,  by  sufliciently  victorious  Analysis, 
'  human  Ufe  may  be  indefinitely  lengthened,'  and  men  get  rid 
of  Death  as  they  have  already  done  of  the  Devil  ?  We  shall 
then  be  happy  in  spite  of  Death  and  the  Devil. — So  preaches 
magniloquent  Philosophism  her  Redeunt  Saturnia  regna. 

The  prophetic  song  of  Paris  and  its  Philosophes  is  audible 
enough  in  the  Versailles  (Eil-de-Boeuf ;  and  the  Q5il-de-Boeuf, 
intent  chiefly  on  nearer  blessedness,  can  answer,  at  worst,  with 
a  polite  "Why  not?"  Good  old  cheery  Maurepas  is  too  joy- 
ful a  Prime  INIinister  to  dash  the  world's  joy.  Sufficient  for 
the  day  be  its  own  evil.  Cheery  old  man,  he  cuts  his  jokes, 
and  hovers  careless  along  ;  his  cloak  well  adjusted  to  the  wind, 
if  so  be  he  may  please  all  persons.  The  simple  young  King, 
whom  a  Maurepas  cannot  think  of  troubling  with  business, 
has  retii-ed  into  the  interior  aj)artments  ;  tacitm-n,  ii-resolute  ; 
though  with  a  sharpness  of  temper  at  times  :  he,  at  length, 
determines  on  a  little  smith-work  :  and  so,  in  apprenticeship 
with  a  Sieur  Gamain  (whom  one  day  he  shall  have  little  cause 
to  bless),  is  learning  to  make  locks.*  It  appears  further,  he 
understood  GeogTaphy  ;  and  could  read  English.  Unhappy 
young  King,  his  childlike  trust  in  that  foolish  old  MaureiDas 
deserved  another  return.  But  friend  and  foe,  destiny  and 
himself  have  combined  to  do  him  hurt. 

J  Meanwhile  the  fair  young  Queen,  in  her  halls  of  state,  walks 
hke  a  goddess  of  Beauty,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  ;  as  yet  min- 
gles not  with  affairs  ;  heeds  not  the  f  utui-e  ;  least  of  all,  dreads 
it,  Weber  and  Campan  f  have  pictured  her,  there  within  the 
royal  tapestries,  in  bright  boudoirs,  baths,  peignoirs,  and  the 
Grand  and  Little  Toilet ;  with  a  whole  brilliant  world  waiting 
*  Campan,  i.  125.  f  Campan,  i.  100-151.— Weber,  i.  11-50. 


36  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

obsequious  on  her  glance  :  fair  young  daughter  of  Time,  what 
things  has  Time  in  store  for  thee  !  Like  Earth's  brightest  Ap- 
pearance, she  moves  gracefully',  environed  wdth  the  grandeur 
of  Earth  :  a  reality,  and  yet  a  magic  vision  ;  for,  behold,  shall 
shall  not  utter  Darkness  swallow  it !  The  soft  young  heart 
adopts  orphans,  portions  meritorious  maids,  delights  to  suc- 
cour the  poor, — such  poor  as  come  picturesquely  in  her  way  ; 
and  sets  the  fashion  of  doing  it ;  for,  as  was  said.  Benevolence 
has  now  begun  reigning.  In  her  Duchess  de  Polignac,  in  her 
Princess  de  Lamballe,  she  enjoys  something  almost  Uke  friend- 
ship :  now,  too,  after  seven  long  years,  she  has  a  child,  and 
soon  even  a  Dauphin,  of  her  own  ;  can  reckon  herself,  as 
Queens  go,  haj^py  in  a  husband. 

Events  ?  The  grand  events  are  but  charitable  Feasts  of  Mo- 
rals {Fetes  des  moews),  with  their  Prizes  and  Speeches  ;  Pois- 
sarde  Processions  to  the  Dauphin's  cradle  ;  above  all,  Flii'ta- 
tions  their  rise,  progi'ess,  decline  and  fall.  There  are  Snow- 
statues  raised  by  the  poor  in  hard  winter,  to  a  Queen  who  has 
given  them  fuel.  There  are  masquerades,  theatricals  ;  beau- 
tifyings  of  little  Trianon,  p)urchase  and  repair  of  St.  Cloud  ; 
journeyings  from  the  summer  Court-Elysium  to  the  winter 
one.  There  are  poutings  and  grudgings  from  the  Sai'dinian 
Sisters-in-law  (for  the  Princes  too  are  wedded) ;  little  jealousies, 
which  Court  Etiquette  can  moderate.  "Wholly  the  lightest- 
hearted  frivolous  foam  of  Existence  ;  yet  an  artfully  refined 
foam  ;  pleasant  were  it  not  so  costly,  like  that  which  mantles 
on  the  wine  of  Champagne. 

Monsieur,  the  King's  elder  Brother,  has  set  up  for  a  kind  of 
wit ;  and  leans  towards  the  Philosophe  side.  Monseigneur 
d'Artois  pulls  the  mask  from  a  fair  impertinent ;  fights  a  duel 
in  consequence, — almost  drawing  blood.*  He  has  breeches  of 
a  kind  new  in  this  world  ; — a  fabulous  kind  ;  'four  tall  lackeys,' 
says  Mercier,  as  if  he  had  seen  it,  '  hold  him  up  in  the  air,  that 
'  he  may  fall  into  the  garment  without  vestige  of  wrinkle  ;  from 
'which  rigorous  encasement  the  same  four,  in  the  same  way, 
'and  with  more  effort,  have  to  deliver  him  at  night. 'f     This 

*  Besenval,  ii.  282-330. 

\  Mercii.r :    Nouvcau  Paris,  iii.    147. 


PETITION  IN  IIIEROQLTPnS.  J< 

last  is  lie  who  now,  as  a  grey  timeworn  man,  sits  desolate  at 
Gi-iitz  ;*  having  -n-iuded  up  bis  destiny  with  the  Three  Days. 
In  such  sort  are  poor  mortals  swept  and  shovelled  to  and  fro. 


CHAPTER  n. 


PETITION    IN    HIEROGLYPHS. 


With  the  working  people,  again,  it  is  not  so  well.  Unlucky. 
For  there  are  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  millions  of  them. 
Whom,  however,  we  lump  together  into  a  kind  of  dim  compen- 
dious unity,  monstrous  but  dim,  far  off,  as  the  cmwille  ;  or, 
more  humauel}^  as  'the  masses.'  Masses  indeed  :  and  yet, 
singular  to  say,  if,  with  an  effort  of  imagination,  thou  follow 
them,  over  broad  France,  into  theii*  clay  hovels,  into  their  gar- 
rets and  hutches,  the  masses  consist  all  of  units.  Eveiy  unit 
of  whom  has  his  own  heart  and  sorrows  ;  stands  covered  there 
with  his  own  skin,  and  if  you  prick  him,  he  will  bleed.  O 
l^ui-ple  Sovereignty  Holiness,  Eeverence  ;  thou,  for  example, 
Cardinal  Grand-Almoner  with  thy  plush  covering  of  honour, 
who  hast  thy  hands  strengthened  with  dignities  and  monies, 
and  art  set  on  thy  world-watch-tower  solemnly,  in  sight  of  God, 
for  such  ends, — what  a  thought :  that  every  unit  of  these 
masses  is  a  miraculous  Man,  even  as  thyself  art ;  struggling, 
with  vision  or  with  blindness,  for  his  infinite  Kingdom  (this 
Life  which  he  has  got,  once  only,  in  the  middle  of  Eternities) ; 
mth  a  spark  of  the  Divinity,  what  thou  callest  an  immortal 
soul,  in  him  ! 

Dreary,  languid  do  these  struggle  in  their  obscure  remote- 
ness, their  hearth  cheerless,  their  diet  thin.  For  them,  in  this 
world,  rises  no  Era  of  Hope  ;  hardly  now  in  the  other, — if  it 
be  not  hope  in  the  gloomy  rest  of  Death,  for  their  faith  too  is 
failing.  Untaught,  uncomforted,  unfed  !  A  dumb  genera- 
tion :  their  voice  only  an  inarticulate  cry  :  spokesman,  in  the 
King's  Council,  in  the  world's  forum,  they  have  none  that 
finds  credence.  At  i-are  intervals  (as  now,  in  1775),  they  will 
*  A.  D.  1834. 


3S  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

fling  clo\^^l  tlieir  boes  and  hammers  ;  and,  to  tlie  astonishment 
of  thinking  mankind,*  flock  hither  and  thither,  dangerous, 
aimless  :  get  the  length  even  of  Versailles.  Tm-got  is  altering 
the  Corn-trade,  abrogating  the  absurdest  Corn-laws  ;  there  is 
dearth,  real,  or  were  it  even  '  factitious ; '  an  indubitable 
scarcity  of  bread.  And  so,  on  the  2nd  day  of  May,  1775, 
these  waste  multitudes  do  here,  at  Versailles  Chateau,  in  wide- 
spi'ead  wretchedness,  in  sallow  faces,  squalor,  winged  ragged- 
ness,  present,  as  in  legible  hieroglyphic  writing,  their  Petition 
of  Grievances.  The  Chateau-Grates  must  be  shut ;  but  the 
liing  will  appear  on  the  balcony,  and  speak  to  them.  They 
have  seen  the  King's  face  ;  their  Petition  of  Grievances  has 
been,  if  not  read,  looked  at.  For  answer,  two  of  them  are 
hanged,  on  a  '  new  gallows  forty  feet  high  ; '  and  the  rest 
driven  back  to  their  dens, — for  a  time. 

Clearly  a  difficult  'jooint '  for  Government,  that  of  dealing 
with  these  masses  ;— if  indeed  it  be  not  rather  the  sole  point 
and  problem  of  Government,  and  all  other  points  mere  ac- 
cidental ci'otchets,  superficialities  and  beatings  of  the  wind  ! 
For  let  Charter-Chests,  Use  and  Wont,  Law  common  and 
special  say  what  they  will,  the  masses  count  to  so  many  mill- 
ions of  units  ;  made,  to  all  appearance,  by  God, — whose 
Earth  this  is  declared  to  be.  Besides,  the  j^eople  are  not 
without  ferocity  ;  the}'  have  sinews  and  indignation.  Do  but 
look  what  holiday  old  Marquis  ]Mirabeau,  the  crabbed  old 
Friend  of  Men,  looked  on,  in  these  same  years,  from  his 
lodging,  at  the  Baths  of  Mont  d'Or  :  '  The  savages  descending 
'  in  torrents  from  the  mountains  ;  our  people  ordered  not  to 

*  go  out.  The  Curate  in  suiplice  and  stole  ;  Justice  in  i'? 
'penike  ;  Marechausi'e  sabre  in  hand,  guarding  the  place,  till 
'  the  bagpipes  can  begin.  The  dance  internipted,  in  a  quarter 
'  of  an  hour,  by  battle  ;  the  cries,  the  squealings  of  chil- 
'dren,  of  infirm  persons,  and  other  assistants,  tarring  them  on, 

*  as  the  rabble  does  when  dogs  fight :  frightful  men.  or  rather 
'  frightful  wild-animals,  clad  in  jupes  of  coarse  woollen,  with 
'  large   girdles   of    leather,    studded   with   copper   naDs  ;   of 

*  Lacretelle  :  France  pendant  le  18me  siccle,  ii.  ioo.—Biographie  Uni- 
terielle  §  TurffOt  (by  Durozois). 


QUESTIONABLE.  39 

*  gigantic  stature,  heightened  by  high  wooden-clogs  (sabots) ; 
'rising  on  tij^toe  to  see  the  fight ;  tramping  time  to  it ;  mb- 
'bing  theii-  sides  with  their  elbows:  their  faces  haggard 
'  (figures  haves),  and  covered  with  their  long  greasy  hair  ;  the 
'  upper  part  of  the  visage  waxing  pale,  the  lower  distorting 
'  itself  into  the  attemjDt  at  a  cruel  laugh  and  a  sort  of  ferocious 
'  impatience.  And  these  people  pay  the  tailie !  And  you 
'  want  further  to  take  their  salt  from  them  !  And  you  know 
'not  what  it  is  you  are  stripping  barer,  or  as  you  call  it, 
'  governing ;  what,  by  the  spurt  of  your  pen,  in  its  cold  dastard 
'  indifference,  you  will  fancy  jon  can  starve  always  with  im- 
'  punity  ;  always  till  the  catastrophe  come  ! — Ah,  Madame, 
'  such  Government  by  Blind-man's-buff,  stumbling  along  too 
'far,  will  end  in  the  General  Overturn  (culbute  generale).'* 

Undoubtedly  a  dark  feature  this  in  an  Age  of  Gold, — Age, 
at  least,  of  Paper  and  Hope  !  Meanwhile,  trouble  us  not  with 
thy  prophecies,  O  croaking  Friend  of  Men  :  'tis  long  that  we 
have  heard  such  ;  and  still  the  old  world  keeps  wagging,  in 
its  old  way. 

CHAPTER  HI 

QUESTIONABLE. 

Or  is  this  same  Age  of  Hope  itself  but  a  simulacnim  ;  as 
Hope  too  often  is  ?•  Cloud-vapour  with  rainbows  painted  on 
it,  beautiful  to  see,  to  sail  towards, — which  hovers  over  Nia- 
gara Falls  ?  In  that  case,  victorious  Analysis  \\all  have  enough 
to  do. 

Alas,  yes  !  a  whole  world  to  remake,  if  she  could  see  it : 
work  for  another  than  her  !  For  all  is  wrong,  and  gone  out 
of  joint ;  the  inward  spmtual,  and  the  outward  economical ; 
head  or  heart,  there  is  no  soundness  in  it.  As  indeed,  evils 
of  all  sorts  are  more  or  less  of  kin,  and  do  usually  go  to- 
gether :  especially  it  is  an  old  truth  that  wherever  huge  phys- 
ical evil  is,  there,  as  the  parent  and  origin  of  it,  has  moral 
evil  to  a  proportionate  extent  been.     Before  those  five-and- 

*  M'  moires  de  Mirabeau  ecrits  par  Lui-mcme.  Par  son  P^re,  son 
Oucle  et  son  Fils  Adoptif  (Paris,  1834-5),  ii.  186. 


40  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

twenty  labouring  Millions,  for  instance,  could  get  that  hag- 
gardness  of  face,  which  old  Mirabeau  now  looks  on,  in  a  Na- 
tion calling  itself  Christian,  and  calling  man  the  brother  of 
man, — what  unspeakable,  nigh  infinite  Dishonesty  (of  seeming 
and  not  being)  in  all  manner  of  Kulers,  and  appointed  Watch- 
ers, spiritual  and  temporal,  must  there  not,  through  long 
ages,  have  gone  on  accumulating !  It  will  accumulate  :  more- 
over, it  will  reach  a  head  ;  for  the  first  of  all  Gospels  is  this, 
that  a  Lie  cannot  endure  for  ever. 

In  fact,  if  we  pierce  through  that  roseijink  vapour  of  Senti- 
mentalism.  Philanthropy,  and  Feasts  of  Morals,  there  lies 
behind  it  one  of  the  son-iest  spectacles.  You  might  ask, 
What  bonds  that  ever  held  a  human  society  happily  together, 
or  held  it  together  at  all,  are  in  force  here  ?  It  is  an  unbe- 
lieving i)eople  ;  v>'hich  lias  suppositions,  h3'i3otheses,  and  froth- 
systems  of  victorious  Analysis  ;  and  for  &e/i^this  mainly,  that 
Pleasure  is  pleasant.  Hunger  they  have  for  all  sweet  things  ; 
and  the  law  of  Hunger  :  but  what  other  law  ?  Withui  them, 
or  over  them,  properly  none  ! 

Their  King  has  become  a  King  Popinjay  :  with  his  Mam-e- 
pas  Government,  gyrating  as  the  weather-cock  does,  blown 
about  by  every  wind.  Above  them  they  see  no  God  ;  or  they 
even  do  not  look  above,  except  with  astronomical  glasses. 
The  Church  indeed  still  is  ;  but  in  the  most  submissive  state  •, 
quite  tamed  by  Philosophism  ;  in  a  singularly  short  time  ;  for 
the  hour  was  come.  Some  twenty  years  ago,  your  Archbishop 
Beaumont  would  not  even  let  the  poor  Jansenists  get  buried : 
your  Lomenie  Brienne  (a  rising  man  whom  we  shall  meet 
Avith  yet)  could,  in  the  name  of  the  Clei'gy,  insist  on  haAing 
the  Anti-Pi-otestant  Laws,  which  condemn  to  death  for  preach- 
ing, '  put  in  execution.'  *  And  alas,  now  not  so  much  as 
Bai'on  Holbach's  Atheism  can  be  burnt, — except  as  pipe- 
matches  by  the  private  speculative  individual.  Our  Church 
stands  haltered,  dumb,  like  a  dumb  ox ;  lowing  only  for 
l)rovender  (of  tithes)  ;  content  if  it  can  have  that ;  or,  with 
dumb  stupor,  expecting  its  further  doom.  And  the  Twenty 
Millions  of  '  haggard  faces  ; '  and,  as  finger-post  and  guidance 
*Eoissy  d'Angks  :  Vie  de  Maleslierbes,  i.  l.")-23 


QUESTIONABLE.  41 

to  them  in  their  dark  struggle,  '  a  gallows  forty  feet  high ! ' 
Certainly  a  singular  Golden  Age  ;  with  its  Feasts  of  Morals, 
its  '  sweet  manners,'  its  sweet  institutions  {institutions  donees) ; 
betokening  nothing  but  peace  among  men  ! — Peace  ?  O  Phi- 
losope-Sentimentalism,  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  peace,  when 
thy  mother's  name  is  Jezebel  ?  Foul  Product  of  still  fouler 
Corruption,  thou  with  the  Corruption  art  doomed  ! 

Meanwhile  it  is  singular  how  long  the  rotten  will  hold  to- 
gether, provided  you  do  not  handle  it  roughly.  For  whole 
generations  it  continues  standing,  '  with  a  ghastly  affectation 
of  life,'  after  all  life  and  truth  has  fled  out  of  it :  so  loath  are 
men  to  quit  their  old  ways  ;  and,  conquering  indolence  and 
inertia,  venture  on  new.  Great  truly  is  the  Actual ;  is  the 
Thing  that  has  rescued  itself  from  bottomless  deeps  of  theory 
and  possibility,  and  stands  there  as  a  definite  indisputable 
Fact,  whereby  men  do  work  and  live,  or  once  did  so.  Wisely 
shall  men  cleave  to  that,  while  it  will  endure  ;  and  quit  it 
with  regret,  when  it  gives  way  under  them.  Rash  enthusiast 
of  Change,  beware  !  Hast  thou  well  considered  all  that  Habit 
does  in  this  life  of  ours  ;  how  all  Knowledge  and  all  Practice 
hang  wondrous  over  infinite  abysses  of  the  Unknown,  Imprac- 
ticable ;  and  our  whole  being  is,  an  infinite  abyss,  overarched 
by  Habit,  as  by  a  thin  Earth-rind,  laboriously  built  together  ? 

But  if  '  every  man,'  as  it  has  been  written,  '  holds  confined 
within  him  a  7)?at?-man,'  what  must  every  Society  do  ; — So- 
ciety, which  in  its  commonest  state  is  called  'the  standing 
miracle  of  this  w^orld  ! '  '  Without  such  Earth-rind  of  Habit,' 
continues  our  Author,  '  call  it  System  of  Habits,  in  a  word, 
^  fixed  ivays  of  acting  and  of  believing, — Society  would  not 
'  exist  at  all.  With  such  it  exists,  better  or  worse.  Herein 
'  too,  in  this  its  System  of  Habits,  acquired,  retained  how  you 
'  will,  lies  the  true  Law-Code  and  Constitution  of  a  Society ; 
'  the  only  Code,  though  an  unwritten  one,  which  it  can  in  no 
'  wise  disohej.  The  thing  we  call  written  Code,  Constitution, 
'  Form  of  Government,  and  the  like,  what  is  it  but  some  mini- 
'  ature  image,  and  solemnly  expressed  summary  of  this  un- 
i  written  Code  ?     Is, — or  rather,  alas,  is  not ;  but  only  should 


4-2  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

'  be,  and  always  teuds  to  be !  In  which  latter  discrepancy 
'lies  struggle  Nvithout  end.'  And  now,  we  add  in  the  same 
dialect,  let  but,  by  ill  chance,  in  such  ever-enduring  struggle, 
— your  '  thin  Earth-rind '  be  once  broken  !  The  fountains  of 
the  great  deep  boil  forth  ;  fire-fountains,  enveloping,  engulpn- 
ing.  Your  '  Earth-rind  '  is  shattered,  swallowed  up  ;  instead 
of  a  green  floweiy  world  there  is  a  waste  wild- weltering  chaos ; 
— which  has  again,  with  tumult  and  sti-uggle,  to  make  itself 
into  a  world. 

On  the  other  hand,  be  this  conceded :  '\Miere  thou  findest 
a  Lie  that  is  oppressing  thee,  extinguish  it.  Lies  exist  there 
only  to  be  extinguished  ;  they  wait  and  cry  earnestly  for  ex- 
tinction. Think  well,  meanwhile,  in  what  spiiit  thou  wilt  do 
it :  not  with  hatred,  with  headlong  selfish  violence  ;  but  in 
clearness  of  heart,  with  holy  zeal,  gently,  almost  with  pity. 
Thou  wouldst  not  replace  such  extinct  Lie  by  a  new  Lie, 
which  a  new  Injustice  of  thy  own  were  ;  the  parent  of  still 
other  Lies  ?  "Whereby  the  latter  end  of  that  business  were 
worse  than  the  beginning. 

So,  however,  in  this  world  of  ours,  which  has  both  an  inde- 
structible hope  in  the  Future,  and  an  indestructible  tendency 
to  persevere  as  in  the  Past,  must  Lmovation  and  Conservation 
wage  their  pei-petual  conflict,  as  they  may  and  can.  WTierein 
the  '  dsemonic  element,'  that  lurks  in  all  human  things,  may 
doubtless,  some  once  in  the  thousand  years, — get  vent!  But 
indeed  may  we  not  regret  that  such  conflict ;  which,  after  all, 
is  but  like  that  classical  one  of  '  hate-filled  Amazons  with  he- 
roic Youths,'  and  will  end  in  embraces, — should  usually  be  so 
spasmodic  ?  For  Conservation,  strengthened  by  that  mighti- 
est quality  in  us,  our  indolence,  sits,  for  long  ages,  not  victo- 
rious only,  which  she  should  be  ;  but  tyrannical,  incommu- 
nicative. She  holds  her  adversary  as  if  annihilated  ;  such 
adversary  lying,  all  the  while,  like  some  buried  Enceladus  ; 
who,  to  gain  the  smallest  freedom,  has  to  stir  a  whole  Trin- 
acria  with  its  ^tnas. 

Wherefore,  on  the  whole,  we  will  honour  a  Paper  Age  too  ; 
an  Era  of  Hope  !  For  in  this  same  frightful  process  of  En- 
celadus Revolt ;  when  the  task,  on  which  no  mortal  would 


MaUREPAS.  43 

willingly  enter,  lias  become  imperative,  inevitable, — is  it  not 
even  a  kindness  of  Natui'e  that  she  lures  us  forward  by 
cheerful  promises,  fallacious  or  not ;  and  a  whole  generation 
plunges  into  the  Erebus  Blackness,  lighted  on  by  an  Era  of 
Hope  ?  It  has  been  well  said  :  '  Man  is  based  on  Hope  ;  he 
'has  properly  no  other  possession  but  Hope  ;  this  habitation 
'of  his  is  named  the  Place  of  Hope.' 


CHAPTER  IV. 


But  now,  among  French  hopes,  is  not  that  of  old  M.  de 
Maurepas  one  of  the  best-grounded  ;  who  hopes  that  he,  by 
dexterity,  shall  contrive  to  continue  Minister?  Nimble  old 
man,  who  for  all  emergencies  has  his  light  jest ;  and  ever  in 
the  worst  confusion  will  emerge,  cork-like,  unsunk !  Small 
care  to  him  is  Perfectibility,  Progress  of  the  Species,  and 
Aatrce  Redux :  good  only,  that  a  man  of  light  wit,  verging 
towards  four  score,  can  in  the  seat  of  authority  feel  himself 
important  among  men.  Shall  we  call  him,  as  haughty  Cha- 
teauroux  was  wont,  of  old,  ' M.  Faquinet  (Diminutive  of  Scoun- 
drel) ? '  In  courtier  dialect,  he  is  now  named  '  the  Nestor  of 
France  ; '  such  governing  Nestor  as  France  has. 

At  bottom,  nevertheless,  it  might  puzzle  one  to  say  where 
the  Government  of  France,  in  these  days,  specially  is.  In 
that  Chateau  of  Versailles,  we  have  Nestor,  King,  Queen,  min- 
isters and  clerks,  with  paper-bundles  tied  in  tape  :  but  the 
Government  ?  For  Government  is  a  thing  that  governs,  that 
guides  ;  and  if  need  be,  compels.  Visible  in  France  there  is 
not  such  a  thing.  Invisible,  inorganic,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  :  in  Philosoj)he  saloons,  in  Qilil-de-Boeuf  gallei'ies ; 
in  the  tongue  of  the  babbler,  in  the  pen  of  the  pamphleteer. 
Her  Majesty  aj^pearing  at  the  Opera  is  applauded  ;  she  re- 
turns all  with  radiant  joy.  Anon  the  applauses  wax  fainter, 
or  threaten  to  cease  ;  she  is  heavy  of  heart,  the  light  of  her 
face  has  fled.     Is  Sovereignty  some  poor  Montgolfier  ;  which, 


44  TUB  PAPER  AGE. 

blown  into  by  the  popular  wind,  gi'ows  great  and  mounts  ;  or 
sinks  flaccid,  if  the  wind  be  withdrawn  ?  France  was  long  a 
'  Despotism  tempered  by  EjDigrams ; '  and  now,  it  would 
seem,  the  Epigrams  have  got  the  upper  hand. 

Happy  were  a  young  '  Louis  the  Desired '  to  make  France 
happ3' ;  if  it  did  not  jDrove  too  troublesome,  and  he  only  knew 
the  way.  But  there  is  endless  discrepancy  round  him  ;  so 
many  claims  and  clamoui's ;  a  mere  confusion  of  tongues. 
Not  reconcilable  by  man  ;  not  manageable,  suppressible,  save 
by  some  strongest  and  wisest  man  ;— which  only  a  lightly- 
jesting,  hghtly-g}-rating  M.  de  Maurepas  can  so  much  as  sub- 
sist amidst.  Philosophism  claims  her  new  Era,  meaning 
thereby  innumerable  things.  And  claims  it  in  no  faint  voice  ; 
for  France  at  large,  hitherto  mute,  is  now  beginning  to  speak 
also  ;  and  speaks  in  that  same  sense.  A  huge  many-toned 
sound  ;  distant,  yet  not  unimpressive.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
CEil-de-Boeuf,  which,  as  nearest,  one  can  hear  best,  claims 
with  shrill  vehemence  that  the  Monarchy  be  as  heretofore  a 
Horn  of  Plenty  ;  wherefrom  loyal  courtiers  may  draw, — to 
the  just  support  of  the  throne.  Let  Liberalism  and  a  New 
Era,  if  such  is  the  wish,  be  introduced  ;  only  no  curtailment 
of  the  royal  moneys !  ANTiich  latter  condition,  alas,  is  pre- 
cisely the  impossible  one. 

Philosophism,  as  we  saw,  has  got  her  Turgot  made  Con- 
troller-General ;  and  there  shall  be  endless  refonnation.  Un- 
happily this  Turgot  could  continue  only  twenty  months. 
With  a  miraculous  Fortunatwi  Purne  in  his  Treasury,  it  might 
have  lasted  longer  ;  wdth  such  Pui'se,  indeed,  every  French 
Controller-General,  that  would  pi'osper  in  these  days,  ought 
first  to  provide  himself.  But  here  again  may  we  not  remark 
the  bounty  of  Natui-e  in  regard  to  Hope?  Man  after  man  ad- 
vances confident  to  the  Augean  Stable,  as  if  he  could  clean  it ; 
expends  his  little  fraction  of  an  abihty  on  it,  with  such  cheer- 
fulness ;  does,  in  so  far  as  he  was  honest,  accompHsh  some- 
thing. Turgot  has  faculties ;  honesty,  insight,  heroic  voli- 
tion ;  but  the  Fortunatus'  Purse  he  has  not.  Sanguine 
Controller-General !  a  whole  pacific  French  Revolution  may 
stand  schemed  in  the  head  of  the  thinker  ;  but  who  shall  pay 


MAUREPAS.  45 

the  unspeakable  'indemnities '  that  will  be  needed  ?  Alas,  far 
from  that :  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  business,  he  proposes 
that  the  Clerg}',  the  Noblesse,  the  very  Parlements  be  sub- 
jected to  taxes  like  the  people  !  One  shriek  of  indignation 
and  astonishment  reverberates  through  all  the  Chateau  gal- 
leries ;  M.  de  Maurepashas  to  gyrate  :  the  poor  King,  who  had 
written  few  week  ago,  '  II  n'y  a  que  vous  et  moi  qui  aimions  le 
peuple  (There  is  none  but  you  and  I  that  has  the  people's  in- 
terest at  heart),'  must  write  now  a  dismissal  ;  *  and  let  the 
French  Kevolution  accomphsh  itself,  pacifically  or  not,  as  it 


Hope  then  is  deferred  ?  Deferred  ;  not  destroyed,  or 
abated.  Is  not  this,  for  example,  our  Patriarch  Voltaii-e,  after 
long  years  of  absence,  re^dsiting  Paris  ?  With  face  shrivelled 
to  nothing ;  with  '  huge  peruke  d  la  Louis  Quaiorze,  which 
'  leaves  only  two  eyes  visible,  glittering  like  carbuncles,'  the 
old  man  is  here.f  What  an  outburst !  Sneering  Paris  has 
suddenly  grown  reverent  ;  devotional  with  Hero-worship. 
Nobles  have  disguised  themselves  as  tavem-w^aiters  to  obtain 
sight  of  him  :  the  loveliest  of  France  would  lay  their  hair  be- 
neath his  feet.  '  His  chariot  is  the  nucleus  of  a  Comet ; 
whose  train  fills  whole  streets  : '  they  crown  him  in  the  theatre, 
with  immortal  -vivats  ;  finally  '  stifle  him  under  roses,' — for  old 
Richelieu  recommended  opium  in  such  state  of  ihe  nerves, 
and  the  excessive  Patriarch  took  too  much.  Her  Majesty  her- 
self had  some  thought  of  sending  for  him  ;  but  was  dis- 
suaded. Let  Majesty  consider  it,  nevertheless.  The  purport 
of  this  man's  existence  has  been  to  wither  up  and  annihilate 
all  whereon  Majesty  and  Worship  for  the  present  rests  :  and 
is  it  so  that  the  world  recognises  him  ?  With  Apotheosis  ;  as 
its  Prophet  and  Speaker,  who  has  spoken  wisely  the  thing  it 
longed  to  say  ?  Add  only  that  the  body  of  this  same  rose- 
stifled,  beatified  Patriarch  cannot  get  buried  except  by 
stealth.  It  is  wholly  a  notable  business  ;  and  France,  with- 
out doubt,  is  big  (what  the  Germans  call  'Of  good  Hope'): 
we  shall  wish  her  a  happy  bu"th-hour  and  blessed  frait. 
♦  In  May,  1775.  f  February,  1778. 


46  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

Beauraarchais  too  has  now  winded  up  his  Law-Pleadings 
{Memoircs)  ;  *  not  without  result,  to  himself,  and  to  the  world. 
Caron  Beaumarchais  (or  de  Beaumarchais,  for  he  got  ennobled) 
had  been  born  poor,  but  aspiring,  esurient ;  with  talents,  au- 
dacity adroitness  ;  above  all  with  the  talent  for  intrigue  :  a 
lean,  but  also  a  tough  indomitable  man.  Fortune  and  dex- 
terity, brought  him  to  the  harjDsichord  of  Mesdames,  our  good 
Princesses  Loque,  Graille  and  Sisterhood.  Still  better,  Paris 
Duvernier,  the  Court-Banker,  honoured  him  with  some  con- 
fidence ;  to  the  length  even  of  transactions  in  cash.  Which 
confidence,  however,  Duvei'nier's  Heir,  a  person  of  quahty, 
would  not  continue.  Quite  otherwise  ;  there  springs  a  Law- 
suit from  it ;  wherein  tough  Beaumarchais,  losing  both  money 
and  repute,  is,  in  the  opinion  of  Judge-Reporter  Goezman,  of 
the  Parlement  Maupeou,  and  of  a  whole  indifferent  acquies- 
cing world, — miserably  beaten.  In  all  men's  opinion,  only 
not  in  his  o-\vu  !  Inspired  by  the  indignation,  which  makes, 
if  not  verses,  satirical  law-papers,  the  withered  Music-master, 
with  a  desperate  heroism,  takes  up  his  lost  cause  in  spite  of 
the  world  ;  fights  for  it,  against  Reporters,  Parlements  and 
Principalities,  with  light  banter,  with  clear  logic  ;  adroitly, 
with  an  inexhaustible  toughness  and  resource,  like  the  skil- 
fullest  fencer  ;  on  whom,  so  skilful  is  he,  the  whole  world  now 
looks.  Three  long  years  it  lasts  ;  with  wavering  fortune.  In 
fine,  after  labours  comparable  to  the  Twelve  of  Hercules,  our 
unconquerable  Caron  triumphs  ;  regains  his  Lawsuit  and  Law- 
suits ;  strips  Reporter  Goezman  of  the  judicial  ermine  ;  cover- 
ing him  with  a  perpetual  garment  of  obloquy  instead  : — and 
in  regard  to  the  Parlement  Maupeou  (which  he  has  helped  to 
extinguish),  to  Parlements  of  all  kinds,  and  to  French  Justice 
generally,  gives  rise  to  endless  reflexions  in  the  minds  of 
men.  Thus  has  Beaumarchais,  like  a  lean  French  Hercules, 
ventured  down,  driven  by  destiny,  into  the  Nether  Kingdoms  ; 
and  victoriously  tamed  helldogs  there.  He  also  is  henceforth 
among  the  notabilities  of  his  generation. 

*  1773-6.  See  CEuvres  de  Beaumarchais  ;  wkcre  they,  and  the  his- 
tory of  them,  are  giveu. 


ASTB^EA  REDUX  WITHOUT  CASH. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ASTK^;^    REDUX    WITHOUT    CASH. 

Observe,  however,  beyond  the  Atlantic,  has  not  the  new  day 
verily  dawned !  Democracy,  as  we  said,  is  born  ;  storm-girt, 
is  struggling  for  life  and  ^actory.  A  sympathetic  France 
rejoices  over  the  Eights  of  Man  ;  in  all  saloons,  it  is  said, 
'\\Tiat  a  spectacle  !  Now  too  behold  our  Deaue,  our  Franklin, 
American  Plenipotentiaries,  here  in  person  soliciting :  *  the 
sons  of  the  Saxon  Puritans,  with  theu'  Old-Saxon  temper, 
Old-Hebrew  culture,  sleek  Silas,  sleek  Benjamin,  here  on  such 
errand,  among  the  light  children  of  Heathenism,  Monarchy 
Sentimentahsm,  and  the  Scarlet  Woman.  A  spectacle  in- 
deed ;  over  which  saloons  may  cackle  joyous, — though  Kaiser 
Joseph,  questioned  on  it,  gave  this  answer,  most  unexpected 
fi'om  a  Philosophe  :  "  IVtadame,  the  trade  I  live  by  is  that  of 
royahst  [Monmetier  d  moi  c'ed  d'ttre  roijaliate)." 

So  thinks  light  Maurepas  too  ;  but  the  wind  of  Philosoph- 
ism  and  force  of  public  opinion  will  blow  him  round.  Best 
wishes,  meanwhile,  are  sent  ;  clandestine  privateers  armed. 
Paul  Jones  shall  equip  his  I>on  Homme  Pdchard :  weapons, 
military  stores  can  be  smuggled  over  (if  the  English  do  not 
seize  them)  ;  wherein  once  more  Beaumarchais,  dimly  as  the 
Giant  Smuggler,  becomes  visible, — filling  his  own  lank  pocket 
withaL  But  surely,  in  any  case,  France  shoidd  have  a  Navj*. 
For  which  great  object  were  not  now  the  time  ;  now  when 
that  proud  Termagant  of  the  Seas  has  her  hands  full?  It  is 
true,  an  impoverished  Treasury  cannot  build  ships ;  but  the 
hint  once  given  (which  Beaumarchais  says  he  gave),  this  and 
the  other  loyal  Seaport,  Chamber  of  Commerce,  will  buil'i  and 
offer  them.  Goodly  vessels  bound  into  the  waters  ;  a  Ville  de 
Paris,  Leviathan  of  ships. 

And  now  when  gratuitous  three-deckers  dance  there  at  an- 
chor, with  streamers  flying  ;  and  eleutheromaniac  Philosophe- 

*  1777  :  Deane  somewhat  earlier :  Franklin  remained  till  1785. 


43  THE  I'APL'li  AGE. 

dom  grows  ever  more  clamorous,  what  can  a  Maurepas  do 
— but  gj'rate  ?  Squadrons  cross  the  ocean  :  Gateses,  Lees, 
rough  Yankee  Generals,  '  with  woollen  night-caps  under  their 
hats,'  present  arms  to  the  far-glancing  Chivalry  of  France  ;  and 
new-born  Democracy  sees,  not  without  amazement,  '  Despot- 
ism tempered  by  Epigrams  '  light  at  her  side.  So,  however, 
it  is.  King's  forces  and  heroic  volunteers  ;  Kochambeaus, 
Bouilles,  Lameths,  Lafayettes,  have  drawn  their  swords  in  this 
sacred  quarrel  of  mankind  ; — shall  draw  them  again  elsewhere, 
in  the  strangest  way. 

Off  Ushant  some  naval  thunder  is  heard.  In  the  course  of 
which  did  our  young  Prince,  Duke  de  Chartres,  '  hide  in  the 
hold  ; '  or  did  he  materially,  by  active  heroism,  contribute  to  the 
victory  ?  Alas,  by  a  second  edition,  we  learn  that  there  was 
no  victory  ;  or  that  English  Keppel  had  it.*  Our  poor  young 
Prince  gets  his  Opera  plaudits  changed  into  mocking  tehees  ; 
and  cannot  become  Grand- Admiral, — the  source  to  him  of 
woes  which  one  may  call  endless. 

Wo  also  for  Ville  de  JPai'is,  the  Leviathan  of  ships !  Eng- 
lish Eodney  has  clutched  it,  and  led  it  home,  with  the  rest ; 
so  successful  was  his  '  new  manoeuvre  of  breaking  the  enemy's 
line.'f  It  seems  as  if,  according  to  Louis  XV.,  'France  were 
never  to  have  a  Navy.'  Brave  Suffren  must  return  from  Hyder 
Ally  and  the  Indian  Waters  ;  with  small  result ;  yet  with 
gi-eat  glory  for  'six'  non-defeats ; — which  indeed,  with  such 
seconding  as  he  had,  one  may  reckon  heroic.  Let  the  old  sea- 
hero  rest  now,  honoured  of  France,  in  his  native  Cevennes 
Mountains  ;  send  smoke,  not  of  gunpowder,  but  mere  culinary 
smoke,  through  the  old  chimneys  of  the  Castle  of  Jales, — 
which  one  day,  in  other  hands,  shall  have  other  fame.  Brave 
Laperouse  shall  by  and  by  lift  anchor,  on  philanthropic  Voa'- 
age  ot  Discovery  ;  for  the  King  knows  Geography.  |  But  alas, 
this  also  will  not  prosper :  the  brave  Navigator  goes,  and  re- 
turns not ;  the  Seekers  search  far  for  him  in  vain.  He  has 
vanished  trackless  into  blue  Immensity ;  and  only  some  mourn- 

*  27th  July,  1773.     fOth  and  12tli  April,  1782.     X  August  1st,  1785. 


ASTR^iJA  REDUX  \ylTUOUT  CASH.  49 

ful  mysterious  shadow  of  Lim  hovers  long  in  all  heads  and 
hearts. 

Neither,  while  the  "War  vet  lasts,  Avill  Gibraltar  siu'render. 
Not  though  Crillou,  Nassau-Siegeu,  with  the  ablest  projectors 
extant,  are  there  ;  and  Prince  Conde  and  Prince  d'Artois  have 
hastened  to  help.  Wondrous  leather-roofed  Floating-bat- 
teries, set  afloat  by  French-Spanish  Facte  de  Famille,  give  gal- 
lant summons  ;  to  which,  nevertheless,  Gibraltar  answers  Plu- 
tonically,  with  mere  torrents  of  redhot  iron, — as  if  stone  Calpe 
had  become  a  throat  of  the  Pit ;  and  utters  such  a  Doom's 
blast  of  a  No,  as  all  men  must  credit.* 

And  so,  with  this  loud  explosion,  the  noise  of  War  hag 
ceased  ;  an  Age  of  Benevolence  may  hope,  forever.  Our  noble 
volunteers  of  Freedom  have  returned,  to  be  her  missionaries. 
Lafaj'ette,  as  the  matchless  of  his  time,  ghtters  in  the  Ver- 
sailles CEil-de-Boeuf  ;  has  his  Bust  set  up  in  the  Paris  Hotel- 
de-Ville,  Democrac}^  stands  inexpugnable,  immeasurable,  in 
her  New  W^orld,  has  even  a  foot  lifted  towards  the  Old  ; — and 
our  French  Finances,  httle  strengthened  by  such  work,  are  in 
no  healthy  way. 

What  to  do  with  the  Finances  ?  This  indeed  is  the  great 
question  :  a  small  but  most  black  weather-symptom,  which  no 
radiance  of  universal  hope  can  cover.  We  saw  Turgot  cast 
forth  from  the  ControUerships  with  shrieks, — for  want  of  a 
Fortunatus'  Purse.  As  little  could  M.  de  Ciugny  manage  the 
duty  ;  or  indeed  do  anything,  but  consume  his  wages  ;  attain 
*a  place  in  History,'  where  as  an  ineffectual  shadow  thou 
beholdest  him  still  lingering  ; — and  let  the  duty  manage  itself. 
Did  Genevese  Necker  pounces  such  a  Purse  then  ?  He  pos- 
sessed banker's  skill,  banker's  honesty  ;  credit  of  all  kinds,  for 
he  had  written  Academic  Prize  Essays,  struggled  for  India 
Companies,  given  dinners  to  Philosophes,  and  'realised  a 
fortune  in  twenty  years.'  He  possessed  further  a  taciturnity 
and  solemnity  ;  of  depth,  or  else  of  dulness.  How  singular 
for  Celadon  Gibbon,  false  swain  as  he  had  proved  ;  whose 
father,  keeping  most  probably  his  own  gig,  '  would  not  hear 

*  Annual  Register  (Dodsley's)  xxv.  258-2G7.  Septembei*,  October, 
1783. 

Vol.  L— 4 


50  TUE  PAPEll  AGE. 

of  such  a  uniou,' — to  tiud  now  Lis  forsaken  Demoiselle 
Carchod  sitting  in  the  high  places  of  the  world,  as  jMiuister'a 
Madame,  and  '  Necker  not  jealous ! '  * 

A  new  young  Demoiselle,  one  day  to  be  famed  as  a  Madame 
and  De  Stael, — was  romping  about  the  knees  of  the  Decline 
and  Fall :  the  lady  Necker  founds  Hospitals ;  gives  solemn 
Philosophe  dinner-parties,  to  cheer  her  exhausted  Controller- 
General.  Strange  things  have  ha^^pened  :  by  clamour  of  Phi- 
losophism,  management  of  Marquis  de  Pezay,  and  Poverty 
constraining  even  Kings.  And  so  Necker,  Atlas-like,  sustains 
the  bui-den  of  the  Finances,  for  five  years  long.f  Without 
wages,  for  he  refused  such  ;  cheered  only  by  PubHc  Opinion, 
and  the  ministering  of  his  noble  "SYife.  With  many  thoughts  in 
him,  it  is  hoped  ; — which  however  he  is  shy  of  uttering.  His 
Compte  liendu,  published  b}-  the  royal  permission,  fresh  sign 
of  a  New  Era,  shows  wonders  ; — which  what  but  the  genius  of 
some  Atlas-Necker  can  prevent  from  becoming  portents  ?  In 
Necker's  head  too  there  is  a  whole  pacific  French  Revolution, 
of  its  kind  ;  and  in  that  taciturn  dull  depth,  or  deep  dulness, 
ambition  enough. 

Meanwhile,  alas,  his  Fortunatus'  Purse  turns  out  to  be  little 
other  than  the  old  '  vectigal  of  Parsimony.'  Nay,  he  too  has  to 
jH-oduce  his  scheme  of  taxing  :  Clergy,  Noblesse  to  be  taxed  ; 
Pro^incial  AssembHes,  and  the  rest, — like  a  mere  Turgot ! 
The  expinng  M.  de  Maurepas  must  gyrate  one  other  time. 
Let  Necker  also  dejmrt ;  not  unlamented. 

Great  in  a  private  station,  Necker  looks  on  from  the  dis- 
tance ;  abiding  his  time.  'Eighty  thousand  copies'  of  his 
new  Book,  which  he  calls  Administration  cles  Finances,  will  be 
sold  in  few  days.  He  is  gone  ;  but  shall  return,  and  that 
more  than  once  borne  by  a  whole  shouting  Nation.  Singular 
Controller-General  of  the  Finances  ;  once  Clerk  in  Thelusson's 
Bank ! 

♦  Gibbon's  Letters:  Date,  ICtL  June,  1777,  kc.  f  Till  Maj,  1781 


wixBDA  as.  5 1 


CHAPTER  YI. 


So  marches  the  world,  in  this  its  Paper  Age,  or  Era  of 
Hope.  Not  without  obstructions,  war-explosions  ;  which  how- 
ever, heard  from  such  distance,  are  little  other  than  a  cheerful 
marching-rausic.  If  indeed  that  dark  living  chaos  of  Igno- 
rance and  Hunger,  five  and  twenty  miUion  strong,  under  your 
feet, — were  to  begin  placing  ! 

For  the  present,  however,  consider  Longchamp  ;  now  when 
Lent  is  ending,  and  the  glory  of  Paris  and  France  has  gone 
forth,  as  in  annual  wont.  Not  to  assist  at  Tenebris  Masses, 
but  to  sun  itself  and  show  itself,  and  salute  the  Youu«' 
Spring*  Manifold,  bright-tinted,  glittering  with  gold  ;  all 
through  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  longdrawn  variegated  rows  ; 
— like  longdrawn  living  flower-boi'ders,  tulips,  dahlias,  lilies  of 
the  valley  ;  all  in  their  moving  flower-jDots  (of  newgilt  car- 
riages) :  pleasure  of  the  eye,  and  pride  of  life  !  So  rolls  and 
dances  the  Procession  ;  stead}',  of  firm  assurance,  as  if  it  rolled 
on  adamant  and  the  foundations  of  the  world  ;  not  on  mere 
heraldic  parchment, — under  which  smoulders  a  lake  of  fire. 
Dance  on  ye  foolish  ones  ;  ye  sought  not  wisdom,  neither 
have  ye  found  it.  Ye  and  your  fathers  have  sown  the  ^^'ind, 
ye  shall  reap  the  whirlwind.  Was  it  not,  from  of  old,  writ- 
ten :  The  wages  of  sin  is  death  ? 

But  at  Longchamp,  as  elsewhere,  we  remark  for  one  thing, 
that  dame  and  cavalier  are  waited  on  each  by  a  kind  of  human 
familiar,  named  jokei.  Little  elf,  or  imp  ;  though  young,  al- 
ready withered  ;  with  its  withered  air  of  premature  vice,  of 
knowiugness,  of  completed  elf  hood  :  useful  in  various  emer- 
gencies. The  name  jokei  (jockey)  comes  from  the  English  ; 
as  the  thing  also  fancies  that  it  does.  Our  Anglomania,  in 
fact,  is  grown  considerable  ;  prophetic  of  much.  If  France 
is  to  be  free,  why  shall  she  not,  now  when  mad  war  is  hushed, 
*Mercier:   Tableaii  de  Paris,  ii.  ol.   Louvet :   Roman  de  Faublas,  &c. 


52  Tin:  PAPj'JR  AGE'. 

love  iieigubouring  Freedom  ?  Cultivated  men,  your  Dukes 
de  Liancourt,  de  la  Eochefoucalt  admire  the  English  Consti- 
tution, the  English  National  Character  ;  would  import  what 
of  it  they  can. 

Of  what  is  lighter,  especially  if  it  be  light  as  wind,  how 
much  easier  the  freightage  !  Non-x\.dmiral  Duke  de  Chartres 
(not  yet  d'Orleans  or  Egahte)  flies  to  and  fro  across  the  Strait  ; 
importing  English  Fashions  :  this  he,  as  hand-and-glove^witli 
au  English  Prince  of  Wales,  is  surely  qualified  to  do.  Car- 
riages and  saddles  ;  top-boots,  and  redingotes,  as  we  call  lid- 
ing-coats.  Naj',  the  very  mode  of  riding  :  for  now  no  man  on 
a  level  with  his  age  but  will  trot  dVAnglaise,  rising  in  the 
stirrups  ;  scornful  of  the  old  sitfast  method,  in  which,  accord- 
ing to  Shakspear,  '  butter  and  eggs  '  go  to  market.  Also,  he 
can  urge  the  fervid  wheels,  this  brave  Chartres  of  ours ;  no 
whip  in  Paris  is  rasher  and  surer  than  the  unprofessional  one 
of  Monseigneur. 

'Elijo/ceis,  we  have  seen  ;  but  see  now  real  Yorkshire  jockeys, 
and  what  they  ride  on,  and  train  :  English  racers  for  French 
Eaces.  These  likewise  we  owe  first  (under  the  Providence  of 
the  Devil)  to  Monseigneur.  Prince  d'Ai-tois  also  has  his  stud 
of  racers.  Prince  d'Artois  has  withal  the  strangest  horseleech  : 
a  moonstruck,  much-endm-ing  individual,  of  Neuchatel  in 
Switzerland, — named  Jean  Faul  Marat.  A  problematic  Chev- 
alier d'Eon  now  in  petticoats,  now  in  breeches,  is  no  less  prob- 
lematic in  London  than  in  Paris  ;  and  causes  bets  and  lawsuits. 
Beautiful  days  of  international  communion !  Swindlery  and 
Blackg'uardism  have  stretched  hands  across  the  Channel,  and 
saluted  mutually  :  on  the  race-course  of  Yincennes  or  Sablous, 
behold,  in  English  curricle-and-four,  wafted  glorious  among 
the  principalities  and  rascalities,  an  English  Dr.  Dodd,*— for 
whom  also  the  too  early  gallows  gapes. 

Duke  de  Chartres  was  a  young  Prmce  of  great  promise,  as 

young  princes  often  are  ;    which  promise  unfortunately  has 

belied  itself.     With   the  huge  Orleans  Property,  with  Duke 

de  Peuthio\Te  for  Father-in-law  (and  now  the  young  Brother- 

*  Adeluiig:   Gescliiclite  der  Menschlicheu  Narrheit  g  Dodd. 


WIA'DBAGS.  53 

in-law  Lamballe  killed  by  excesses), — he  will  one  day  be  the 
richest  man  in  France,  Meanwhile,  his  '  hair  is  all  falling 
out,  his  blood  is  quite  sjDoiled,' — by  early  transcendentalism 
of  debauchery.  Carbuncles  stud  his  face  ;  dark  studs  on  a 
ground  of  burnished  copper.  A  most  signal  failure,  this 
young  Prince  !  The  stuff  prematurely  burnt  out  of  him  ;  lit- 
tle left  but  foul  smoke  and  ashes  of  expiring  sensualities  : 
Avhat  might  have  been  Thought,  Insight,  and  even  Conduct, 
gone  now,  or  fast  going, — to  confused  darkness,  broken  by  be- 
Avildering  dazzlements  ;  to  obstreperous  crochets  ;  to  activi- 
tives  which  you  may  call  semi-delirious,  or  even  semi  galvanic  ! 
Paris  affects  to  laugh  at  his  charioteering  ;  but  he  heeds  not 
such  laughter. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  a  day,  not  of  laughter,  was  that, 
when  he  threatened,  for  lucre's  sake,  to  lay  sacrilegious  hand 
on  the  Palais  Royal  Garden  !  *  The  flower-parterres  shall  be 
riven  up  ;  the  Chestnut  Avenues  shall  fall :  time-honoured 
boscages,  under  Avhich  the  Opera  Hamadryads  were  wont  to 
wander,  not  inexorable  to  men.  Paris  moans  aloud.  Phili- 
dor,  fi'om  his  Cafe  de  la  Regence,  shall  no  longer  look  on 
greenness  ;  the  loungers  and  losels  of  the  world,  where  now 
shall  they  haunt  ?  In  vain  is  moaning.  The  axe  glitters  ; 
the  sacred  groves  fall  crashing, — for  indeed  Monseigneur  was 
short  of  money  :  the  Opera  Hamadryads  fly  with  shrieks. 
Shriek  not,  ye  Opera  Hamadryads  ;  or  not  as  those  that  have 
no  comfort.  He  will  surround  your  Garden  with  new  edifices 
and  piazzas  ;  though  narrowed,  it  shall  be  replanted  ;  dizened 
with  hydraulic  jets,  cannon  which  the  sun  fires  at  noon  ;  things 
bodih',  things  sj^iritual,  such  as  man  has  not  imagined  ; — and 
in  the  Palais-Roytd  shall  again,  and  more  than  ever,  be  the 
Sorcerer  s  Sabbath  and  Satan-at-Home  of  our  Planet. 

"N^Tiat  will  not  mortals  attempt  ?  From  remote  Annonay  in 
the  Yivarais,  the  Brothers  Montgolfier  send  up  their  paper- 
douje,  filled  with  the  smoke  of  burnt  wool.f  The  Vivarais 
Provincial  Assembly  is  to  be  prorogued  this  same  day  :  Viva- 
rais Assembly-members  applaud,  and  the  shouts  of  congre- 
*  1781-82.     (Diilaure,  viii.  423.)  f  otli  June,  1783. 


ai  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

gated  men.  Will  victorious  Analysis  scale  the  very  Heavens 
theu? 

Paris  hears  with  eager  wonder  ;  Paris  shall  ere  long  see. 
From  Raveillon's  Paper- warehouse  there,  in  the  Rue  St.  An- 
toiue  (a  noted  Warehouse), — the  new  Moutgoltier  air-ship 
launches  itself.  Ducks  and  poultry  have  been  borne  sky- 
ward :  but  now  shall  meu  be  borne.*  Nay,  Chemist  Charles 
thinks  of  hydrogen  and  glazed  silk.  Chemist  Charles  will 
himself  ascend,  from  the  Tuileries  Garden  ;  Montgolfier  sol- 
emnly cutting  the  cord.  By  Heaven,  this  Charles  does  also 
mount,  he  and  another !  Ten  times  ten  thousand  hearts  go 
palpitating  ;  all  tongues  are  mute  with  wonder  and  fear ; — till 
a  shout,  like  the  voice  of  seas,  rolls  after  him,  on  his  wild 
wa}'.  He  soars,  he  dwindles  upwards  ;  has  become  a  mere 
gleaming  circlet, — like  some  Turgotine  snuffbox,  what  we 
call  '  Targoline-Platitude ; '  like  some  new  daylight  Moon  ! 
Finally  he  descends  ;  welcomed  by  the  universe.  Duchess 
Polignac,  with  a  party,  is  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  waiting  ; 
though  it  is  drizzly  winter,  the  1st  of  December,  1783.  The 
whole  chivalry  of  France,  Duke  de  Chartres  foremost,  gallops 
to  receive  him.-j- 

Beautiful  invention  ;  mounting  heavenward,  so  beautiful- 
ly,— so  unguidably !  Emblem  of  much,  and  of  our  Age  of 
Hope  itself  ;  which  shall  mount,  specifically-light,  majestically 
in  this  same  manner  ;  and  hover, — tumbling  whither  fate 
will  Well  if  it  do  not,  Pilatre-like,  explode  ;  and  f?emount 
all  the  more  tragically  ! — So,  riding  on  windbags,  will  men 
scale  the  Empyrean. 

Or  observe  Herr  Doctor  Mesmer,  in  his  spacious  Magnetic 
Halls.  Long  stoled  he  walks  ;  reverend  glancing  upwards,  as 
in  rapt  commerce  ;  an  Antique  Egyptian  Hierophaut  in  this 
new  age.  Soft  music  flits  ;  breaking  fitfully  the  sacred  still- 
ness. Round  their  Magnetic  Mystery,  which  to  the  eye  is 
mere  tubs  of  water, — sit  breathless,  rod  in  hand,  the  circles 
of  Beauty  and  Fashion,  each  circle  a  living  circular  Pax.s'ion- 
Flower :  expecting  the  magnetic  afflatus,  and  new-manufac- 
tured Heaven-on-Earth.  O  woujen,  O  men,  gi-eat  is  your  in- 
*  October  and  November,  1783.     f  Lacret«lle  :  liJme  Silcle,  iii.  238. 


CO  NT  RAT  SOCIAL.  0» 

fiJel-faith  !  A  Parlementary  Duport,  a  Bergasse,  d'Espreme- 
nil  we  notice  there  ;  Chemist  Berthollet  too,— on  the  part  of 
Monseigneur  de  Chartres. 

Had  not  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  with  its  Baillys,  Frank- 
lins, Lavoisiers,  interfered!  But  it  did  interfere.*  Mes- 
mer  may  pocket  his  hard  money,  and  withdraw.  Let  him 
walk  silent  by  the  shore  of  the  Bodonsee,  by  the  ancient 
town  of  Constance,  meditating  on  much.  For  so,  under  the 
strangest  new  vesture,  the  old  great  truth  (since  no  vesture 
can  hide  it)  begins  again  to  be  revealed  :  That  man  is  what 
we  call  a  miraculous  creature,  with  miraculous  power  over 
men  ;  and,  on  the  Avhole,  with  such  a  Life  in  him,  and  such  a 
World  round  him,  as, victorious  Analysis,  with  her  Physiolo- 
gies, Nervous-Systems,  Physic  and  Metaphysic,  will  never 
completely  name,  to  say  nothing  of  explaining.  Wherein  also 
the  Quack  shall,  in  all  ages,  come  in  for  his  share. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

CONTRAT    SOCIAL. 


In  such  succession  of  singular  prismatic  tints,  flush  after 
flush  suffusing  our  horizon,  does  the  Era  of  Hope  dawn  on 
towards  fulfilment.  Questionable !  As  indeed,  with  an  Era 
of  Hope  that  rests  on  mere  universal  Benevolence,  victorious 
Analysis,  Vice  cured  of  its  deformity  ;  and,  in  the  long  run, 
on  Twenty-five  dark  savage  Millions,  lookiug  up,  in  hunger 
and  weariness,  to  that  Ecce-signum  of  theirs  'forty  feet  high,' 
— how  could  it  be  but  questionable  ? 

Through  all  time,  if  we  read  aright,  sin  was,  is,  will  be,  the 
parent  of  misery.  This  land  calls  itself  most  Christian,  and 
has  crosses  and  cathedrals ;  but  its  High-priest  is  some 
Ptoche-Aymon,  some  Necklace-Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan. 
The  voice  of  the  poor,  through  long  years,  ascends  inarticu- 
late, in  Jacqueries,  meal-mobs  ;  low-whimpering  of  infinite 
moan  ;  unheeded  of  the  Earth  ;  not  unheeded  of  Heaven. 
♦August,  1T84. 


56  TUE  PArEIi  AGE. 

Always  moreover  wliex-e  the  ]\IillioHS  are  wretched,  there  are 
Thousands  straitened,  unhappy  ;  only  the  Units  can  flourish  ; 
or  say  rather,  be  ruined  the  last.  Industry,  all  noosed  and 
haltered,  as  if  it  too  were  some  beast  of  chase  for  the  mighty 
hunters  of  this  world  to  bait,  and  cut  sUces  from, — cries  jjas- 
sionately  to  these  its  well-paid  guides  and  watchers,  not  Guide 
me  ;  but  Laissez  /aire,  Leave  me  alone  of  yniir  guidance ! 
"^liat  market  has  Industry  in  this  France  ?  For  two  things 
there  may  be  market  and  demand  :  for  the  coarser  kind  of 
field-fruits,  since  the  Millions  will  live  :  for  the  finer  kinds  of 
luxury  and  spicer}', — of  multiform  taste,  from  opera-melodies 
down  to  racers  and  coui-tesans  ;  since  the  Units  will  be 
amused.     It  is  at  bottom  but  a  mad  state  of  things. 

To  mend  and  remake  all  which  we  have,  indeed,  victorious 
Analysis.  Honour  to  victorious  Analysis  :  nevertheless,  out 
of  the  Workshop  and  Laboratory,  what  thing  was  victorious 
Analysis  yet  known  to  make  ?  Detection  of  incoherences, 
mainly  ;  destruction  of  the  incoherent.  From  of  old.  Doubt 
was  but  half  a  magician  ;  she  evokes  the  spectres  which  she 
cannot  quell.  "We  shall  have  '  endless  vortices  of  froth-logic,' 
whevon  first  words,  and  then  things  are  whuied  and  swal- 
lowed. Kemark,  accordingly,  as  acknowledged  grounds  of 
Hope,  at  bottom  mere  precursors  of  Despair*,  this  perj^etual 
theorising  about  Man,  the  Mind  of  Man,  Philosophy  of  Gov- 
ernment, Progress  of  the  Sj)ecies,  and  such  like  ;  the  main 
thinking  furniture  of  every  head.  Time,  and  so  many  Mon- 
tesquieu s,  Mablys,  spokesmen  of  Time,  have  discovered  innu- 
merable things  :  and  now  has  not  Jean  Jacques  promulgated 
his  new  Evangel  of  a  Contrat  Social  ;  explaining  the  whole 
mystery  of  Government,  and  how  it  is  contracted  and  bar- 
gained for, — to  universal  satisfaction?  Theories  of  Govern- 
ment !  Such  have  been,  and  Avill  be  ;  in  ages  of  decadence. 
Acknowledge  them  in  their  degree  ;  as  processes  of  Nature, 
who  does  nothing  in  vain  ;  as  steps  in  her  great  process. 
Meanwhile,  what  theory  is  so  certain  as  this,  That  all  theories, 
were  they  never  so  earnest,  painfully  elaborated,  are  and,  by 
the  very  conditions  of  them,  must  be  incomplete,  questionable, 
and  even  false?     Thou  shalt  know  that  thio  Universe  is.  what 


CON  THAT  SOCIAL.  o7 

it  jH-ofesses  to  be,  an  wfiaite  one.  Attempt  not  to  swallow  it, 
for  thy  logical  digestion  ;  be  thankful,  if  skilfully  planting 
dow.i  this  and  the  other  fixed  pillar  in  the  chaos,  thou  pre- 
vent its  swallowing  thee.  That  a  new  young  generation  has 
exchanged  the  Sceptic  Creed,  Wliat  shall  I  believe,  for  passion- 
ate Faith  in  this  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques,  is  a  fur- 
ther step  in  the  business  ;  and  betokens  much. 

Blessed  also  is  Hope  ;  and  always  from  the  beginning  there 
was  some  Millennium  prophesied  :  Millennium  of  Hohness  ; 
but  (what  is  notable)  never  till  this  new  Era,  any  Millennium 
of  mere  Ease  and  plentiful  Supply.  In  such  prophesied  Lub- 
berland,  of  Happiness,  Benevolence,  and  Vice  cured  of  its  de- 
formity, trust  not,  my  fliends  !  Man  is  not  what  one  calls 
a  happy  animal ;  his  appetite  for  sweet  victual  is  so  enormous. 
How,  in  this  wild  Universe  which  storms  in  on  him,  infinite, 
vague-menacing,  shall  poor  man  find,  say  not  happiness,  but 
existence,  and  footing  to  stand  on,  if  it  be  not  by  girding  him- 
self together  for  continual  endeavour  and  endurance  ?  Wo, 
if  in  his  heart  there  dwelt  no  devout  Faith  ;  if  the  word  Duty 
had  lost  its  meaning  for  him  !  For  as  to  this  of  Sentimental- 
ism,  so  useful  for  weeping  with  over  romances  and  on  pathetic 
occasions,  it  otherwise  verily  will  avail  nothing  ;  nay,  less. 
The  healthy  heart  that  said  to  itself,  "  How  healthy  am  I ! " 
was  already  fallen  into  the  fatallest  sort  of  disease.  Is  not 
Sentimentalism  twin-sister  to  Cant,  if  not  one  and  the  same 
with  it  ?  Is  not  Cant  the  materia  prima  of  the  Devil ;  from 
which  all  falsehoods,  imbecilities,  abominations  body  them- 
selves ;  from  Vt^hich  no  true  thing  can  come  ?  For  Cant  is 
itself  properly  a  double-distilled  Lie  ;  the  second-power  of  a 
Lio. 

And  now  if  a  whole  Nation  fall  into  that  ?  In  such  case,  I 
answer,  infallibly  they  will  return  out  of  it!  For  life  is  no 
cunningly-devised  deception,  or  self-deception :  it  is  a  gi'eat 
truth  that  thou  art  alive,  that  thou  hast  desires,  necessities  ; 
neither  can  these  subsist  and  satisfy  themselves  on  delusions, 
but  on  fact.  To  fact,  depend  on  it,  we  shall  come  back  :  to 
such  fact,  blessed  or  cursed,  as  we  have  wisdom  for.  The 
iovv'est,  least  blessod  fact  one  knows  of,  on  which  necessitous 


5S  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

mortals  have  ever  based  themselves,  seems  to  be  the  primitive 
one  of  Cannibalism  :  That  /  can  devour  TJiee.  What  if  such 
Primitive  Fact  were  precisely  the  one  we  had  (with  our  un- 
proved methods)  to  revert  to  and  begin  anew  from ! 


CHAPTER  MIL 

PRINTED    PAPER. 


In  such  a  practical  France,  let  the  theory  of  Perfectibility 
say  what  it  will,  discontents  cannot  be  wanting  :  your  promised 
Reformation  is  so  indispensable  ;  yet  it  comes  not ;  who  will 
begin  it — with  himself  ?  Discontent  with  what  is  around  us, 
still  more  with  what  is  above  us,  goes  on  increasing  ;  seeking 
ever  new  vents. 

Of  Street  Ballads,  of  Epigrams  that  from  of  old  tempered 
Despotism,  we  need  not  speak.  Nor  of  Manuscript  Newspapers 
{Noucelles  d  la  main)  do  we  speak.  Bachaumont  and  his  jour- 
neymen and  followers  may  close  those  '  thu-ty  volumes  of  scur- 
rilous eaves-dropping,'  and  quit  that  trade  ;  for  at  length  if 
not  liberty  of  the  Press,  there  is  license.  Pamphlets  can  be 
surreptitiously  vended  and  read  in  Paris,  did  they  even  bear 
to  be  'Printed  at  Pekin.'  We  have  a  Courier  de  V Europe  in 
those  years,  regularly  published  at  London  ;  by  a  De  Morande, 
whom  the  guillotine  has  not  yet  devoured.  There  too  an  um-uly 
Linguet,  still  unguillotiued,  when  his  own  country  has  become 
too  hot  for  him,  and  his  brother  Advocates  have  cast  him  out, 
can  emit  his  hoarse  wailings,  and  Bastille  Devoilee  (Bastille  Un- 
veiled). Loquacious  Abbj  Raynal,  at  length,  has  his  wish  ; 
sees  the  Hidoire  Philosophique,  with  its  '  lubricrity,'  unveracity, 
loose  loud  eleutheromaniac  rant  (contributed,  they  say,  by 
Philosophedom  at  large,  though  in  the  Abbe's  name,  and  to 
liis  glory),  burnt  by  the  common  hangman  ; — and  sets  out  on 
his  travels  as  a  mart)'r.  It  -^^as  the  Edition  of  1781  ;  perhaps 
the  last  notable  Book  that  had  such  fire  beatitude, — the  hang- 
man discovering  now  that  it  did  not  serve. 

Again,  in  Courts  of  Law,  with  their  money-quarrels,  divorce- 
cases,  wheresoever  a  ^^limpse  into  the  household  existence  can 


PRINTED    PAPER.  53 

be  had,  what  indications !  The  Parlements  of  Besancon  and 
Aix  ring,  audible  to  all  France,  with  the  amours  and.  destinies 
of  a  young  Mirabeau,  He,  under  the  nurture  of  a  '  Friend  of 
Men,'  has,  in  State  Prisons,  in  marching  Regiments,  Dutch 
Authors'-garrets,  and  quite  other  scenes,  '  been  for  twenty  years 
learning  to  resist  despotism  : '  despotism  of  men,  and  alas,  al- 
so of  gods.  How,  beneath  this  rose-coloui-ecl  veil  of  Universal 
Benevolence  and  Aatrcea  Rediu.,  is  the  sanctuary  of  Home  so 
often  a  dreary  void,  or  a  dark  contentious  Hell-on-Earth  !  The 
old  Friend  of  Men  has  his  own  divorce-case  too  ;  and  at  times, 
'  his  whole  family  but  one '  under  lock  and  key  :  he  wiites  much 
about  reforming  and  enfranchising  the  world  ;  and  for  his  own 
private  behoof,  he  has  needed  sixty  Lettres-de-Cachet.  A  man 
of  insight  too  ;  with  resolution,  even  with  manful  principle : 
but  in  such  an  element,  inward  and  outward  ;  which  he  could 
not  rule,  but  only  madden.  Edacity,  rapacity  ; — quite  con- 
trary to  the  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart !  Fools,  that  expect 
your  verdant  IMillennium,  and  nothing  but  Love  and  Abun- 
dance, brooks  running  wine,  winds  whispering  music, — with 
the  Avhole  ground  and  basis  of  your  existence  champed  into  a 
mud  of  SensuaHty  ;  which,  daily  growing  deej^er,  will  soon 
have  no  bottom  but  the  Abyss  ! 

Or  consider  that  unutterable  business  of  the  Diamond  Neck- 
lace. Red-hatted  Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan  ;  Sicilian  jailbird 
Balsamo  Cagliostro  ;  milliner  Dame  de  Lamotte,  '  with  a  face 
of  some  piquancy  ;'  the  highest  Church  Dignitaries  waltzing, 
in  Walpurgis  Dance,  with  quack-prophets,  pickpurses  and 
pubhc  women  ; — a  whole  Satan's  Livisible  World  displayed  ; 
Avorking  there  continually  under  the  daylight  visible  one  ;  the 
smoke  of  its  torment  going  up  for  ever  !  The  Throne  has  been 
brought  into  scandalous  collision  with  the  Treadmill.  Aston- 
ished Europe  rings  with  the  mystery  for  ten  months  ;  sees  only 
lie  unfold  itself  from  lie  ;  corruption  among  the  lofty  and  the 
low,  gulosity,  credulity,  imbecility,  strength  nowhere  but  in 
the  hunger.  Weep,  fair  Queen,  thy  fii'st  tears  of  unmixed 
wretchedness!  Thy  fair  name  has  been  tarnished  by  foul 
breath  ;  in'emediably  while  life  lasts.  No  more  shalt  thou  be 
loved  and  pitied  by  living  hearts,  till  a  new  generation  has 


60  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

been  born,  and  tliy  own  heart  lies  cold,  cured  of  all  its  sorrows. 
— The  Epigx-ams  henceforth  become,  not  sharp  and  bitter  ;  but 
cruel,  atrocious,  unmentionable.  On  that  31st  of  May,  178G, 
a  miserable  Cardinal  Grand- Almoner  Rohan,  on  issuing  from 
his  Castille,  is  escorted  by  hurrahing  crowds  :  unloved  he,  and 
v.'orthy  of  no  love  ;  but  important  since  the  Court  and  Queen 
are  his  enemies.* 

How  is  our  bright  Era  of  Ho-^e  dimmed  ;  and  the  whole 
sky  growing  black  with  signs  of  hurricane  and  earthquake  ! 
It  is  a  doomed  world  :  gone  all  '  obedience  that  made  men 
free  ; '  fast  going  the  obedience  that  made  men  slaves, — at 
least  to  one  another.  Slaves  only  of  their  own  lusts  they  now 
are,  and  will  be  Slaves  of  sin  ;  inevitably  also  of  sorrow.  Be' 
hold  the  mouldering  mass  of  Sensuality  and  Falsehood  ;  round 
which  plays  foolishly,  itself  a  coriiiiDt  phosphorescence,  some 
glimmer  of  Sentimentalism ; — and  over  all,  rising,  as  Ark  of 
their  Covenant,  the  grim  Patibulary  Fork  '  forty  feet  high  ; ' 
which  also  is  now  uigh  rotted.  Add  only  that  the  French 
Nation  distinguishes  itself  among  Nations  by  the  characteris- 
tic of  Escitabihty  ;  with  the  good,  but  also  with  the  perilous 
evil,  Avhich  belongs  to  that.  Rebelhon,  explosion,  of  imknown 
extent  is  to  be  calculated  on.  There  are,  as  Chesterfield 
wrote,  *  all  the  symptoms  I  have  ever  met  with  in  History  ! ' 

Shall  we  say  then  :  Wo  to  Philosophism,  that  it  destroyed 
Religion,  what  it  called  '  extinguishing  the  abomination 
(eci'aser  rwfame)?'  "Wo  rather  to  those  that  made  the  Holy 
an  abomination,  and  extinguishable  ;  wo  to  all  men  that  live 
in  such  a  time  of  world-abomination,  and  world-destruction! 
Nay,  answer  the  Courtiers,  it  was  Turgot,  it  was  Necker,  with 
their  mad  innovating ;  it  was  the  Queen's  want  of  etiquette  ; 
it  was  he,  it  was  she,  it  was  that.  Friends !  it  was  every 
scoimdrel  that  had  lived,  and  quacklike  pretended  to  be  do- 
ing, and  been  only  eating  and  ?nwdoing,  in  all  provinces  of 
life,  as  Shoeblack  or  as  Sovereign  Lord,  each  in  his  degree, 
from  the  time  of  Charlemagne  and  earlier.  All  this  (for  be 
sure  no  falsehood  perishes,  but  is  as  seed  sown  out  to  grow) 

*  Fils  Adoptif :  Memoires  de  Mirabeau,  iv.  325. — See  Carlyle's  Miscel* 
lanies  (London,  1839),  iv.    g  Diamond  Necklace,  ^  Count  Cagliostro. 


PRINTED    PAPER.  61 

has  been  storing  itself  for  thousands  of  years  ;  and  now  the 
account-day  has  come.  And  rude  will  the  settlement  be  :  of 
wrath  laid  up  against  the  day  of  wrath.  O  my  Brother,  be 
not  thou  a  Quack !  Die  rather,  if  thou  wilt  take  counsel ;  'tis 
but  dying  once,  and  thou  art  quit  of  it  forever.  Cursed  is 
that  trade  ;  and  bears  curses,  thou  knowest  not  how,  long  ages 
after  thou  art  dej)arted,  and  the  wages  thou  hadst  are  all  con- 
sumed ;  nay,  as  the  ancient  wise  have -o-ritten, — through  Eter- 
nity itself,  and  is  verily  marked  in  the  Doom-Book  of  a  God ! 
Ilope  defen-ed  maketh  the  heart  sick.  And  yet,  as  we  said, 
Hope  is  but  defei'red  ;  not  abohshed,  not  abolishable.  It  is 
very  notable,  and  touching,  how  this  same  Hope  does  still 
light  onwards  the  French  Nation  through  all  its  wild  des- 
tinies. For  w^e  shall  still  find  Hope  shining,  be  it  for  fond  in- 
vitation, be  it  for  anger  and  menace  ;  as  a  mild  heavenly  light, 
it  shone  ;  as  a  red  conflagration  it  shines :  bui'ning  sulphur- 
ous-blue, through  darkest  regions  of  Terror,  it  still  shines  ; 
and  goes  not  out  at  all,  since  Desperation  itself  is  a  kind  of 
Hope.  Thus  is  our  Era  still  to  be  named  of  Hope,  though  in 
the  saddest  sense, — when  there  is  nothing  left  but  Hope. 

But  if  any  one  would  know  summarily  what  a  Pandora's 
Box  lies  there  for  the  opening,  he  may  see  it  in  what  by  its 
natiu'e  is  the  symptom  of  all  symptoms,  the  survi\ing  Litera- 
ture of  the  period.  Abbe  Kaynal,  with  his  lubricity  and  loud 
loose  rant,  has  spoken  his  word  ;  and  already  the  fast-hasten- 
ing generation  responds  to  another.  Glance  at  Beaumarchais' 
Mariage  de  Figaro;  which  now  (in  1784),  after  difficulty 
enough,  has  issued  on  the  stage  ;  and  '  runs  its  hundred 
nights,'  to  the  admiration  of  all  men.  By  what  virtue  or  in- 
ternal vigour  it  so  ran,  the  reader  of  our  day  will  rather  won- 
der :  —and  indeed  will  know  so  much  the  better  that  it  flat- 
tered some  pruriency  of  the  time  ;  that  it  spoke  what  all  were 
feeling,  and  longing  to  speak.  Small  substance  in  that  Fi- 
garo :  thin  wiredrawn  intrigues,  thin  wiredrawn  sentiments 
and  sarcasms  ;  a  thing  lean,  barren  ;  yet  which  winds  and 
whisks"  itself,  as  through  a  wholly  mad  universe,  adroitly, 
with  a  high-sniffing  air :  wherein  each,  as  was  hinted,  which  is 


62  THE  PAPER  AGE. 

the  grand  secret,  may  see  some  image  of  himself,  and  of  his 
own  state  and  ways.  So  it  runs  its  hundred  nights,  and  aU 
France  runs  with  it  ;  laughing  applause.  If  the  soliloquisin<i 
Barber  ask  :  "  What  has  your  Lordship  done  to  earn  all 
this? "and  can  only  answer:  "You  took  the  trouble  to  be 
bom  (Vous  vous  (tes  donne  la  peine  de  na^tre)," — all  men  must 
laugh :  and  a  gay  horse-racing  Anglomaniac  Noblesse  loudest 
of  all.  For  how  can  small  books  have  a  great  danger  in 
them  ?  asks  the  Siem-  Caron  ;  and  fancies  his  thin  epigi-am 
may  be  a  kind  of  reason.  Conqueror  of  a  golden  fleece,  by 
giant  smuggling  ;  tamer  of  hell-dogs,  in  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou  ;  and  finally  crowned  Orpheus  in  the  Tlieuire  Francaix, 
Beaumarchais  has  now  culminated,  and  unites  the  attributes 
of  several  demigods.  We  shall  meet  him  once  again,  in  the 
course  of  his  decline. 

Still  more  significant  are  two  Books  produced  on  the  eve  of 
the  ever-memorable  Explosion  itself,  and  read  eagerly  by  all 
the  Avorld  :  Saint-Pierre's  Paid  et  Virrjinie,  and  Louvet's  Chev- 
alier de  Faublas.  Note-worthy  Books  ;  which  may  be  consid- 
ered as  the  last  speech  of  old  Feudal  France.  Li  the  first 
there  rises  melodiously,  as  it  were,  the  wail  of  a  moribund 
■world  :  every  where  wholesome  Nature  in  unequal  conflict 
with  diseased  perfidious  Art ;  cannot  escape  from  it  in  the 
lowest  hut,  in  the  remotest  island  of  the  sea.  Ruin  and  death 
must  strike  down  the  loved  one  ;  and,  wdiat  is  most  signifi- 
cant of  all,  death  even  here,  not  by  necessity  but  by  etiquette. 
Wliat  a  world  of  prurient  corruption  lies  visible  in  that  super- 
Bubhme  of  modesty  !  Yet  on  the  whole  our  good  Saint-Pierre 
is  musical,  poetical,  though  most  morbid  :  we  will  call  hi? 
Book  the  sw^an-song  of  old  dying  France. 

Louvet's  again  let  no  man  account  musical.  Truly,  if  this 
wretched  Faublas  is  the  death  speech,  it  is  one  under  the  gal- 
lows, and  by  a  felon  that  does  not  repent.  Wretched  cloaca 
of  a  Book  ;  without  depth  even  as  a  cloaca  !  What  '  picture 
of  French  society '  is  here  ?  Picture  properly  of  nothing,  if 
not  of  the  mind  that  gave  it  out  as  some  sort  of  picture. 
Yet  symptom  of  much  ;  above  all  of  the  world  that  could 
nourish  itseK  thereon, 


BOOK  III 
TUB  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DISHONOURED    BILLS. 


While  the  unspeakable  confusion  is  every  where  weltering" 
within,  and  through  so  many  cracks  in  the  siu'face  sulphur- 
smoke  is  issuing,  the  question  arises  :  Through  what  cre\'ice  will 
the  main  ExjDlosion  carry  itself  ?  Through  wliich  of  the  old 
craters  or  chimneys  ;  or  must  it,  at  once,  form  a  new  crater 
for  itself  ?  In  every  Society  are  such  chimneys,  are  Institu- 
tions serving  as  such  :  even  Constantinople  is  not  without  its 
safety-valves  ;  there  too  Discontent  can  vent  itself, — in  mate- 
ria] fire  ;  by  the  number  of  nocturnal  conflagrations,  or  of 
hanged  bakers,  the  Reigning  Power  can  read  the  signs  of  the 
times,  and  change  course  according  to  these. 

We  may  say  that  this  French  Explosion  will  doubtless  first 
try  all  the  old  Institutions  of  escape  :  for  by  each  of  these  there 
is,  or  at  least  there  used  to  be,  some  communication  with  the 
interior  deep  ;  they  are  national  Institutions  in  virtue  of  that. 
Had  they  even  become  personal  Institutions,  and  what  we  can 
call  choked  up  from  their  original  uses,  there  nevertheless 
must  the  impediment  be  weaker  than  elsewhere.  Through 
which  of  them  then  ?  An  observer  might  have  guessed  : 
Through  the  Law  Parlements  ;  above  all,  through  the  Pai-le- 
ment  of  Paris. 

Men,  though  never  so  thickly  clad  in  dignities,  sit  not  in- 
accessible to  the  influences  of  their  time  ;  especially  men 
whose  life  is  business  ;  who  at  all  turns,  were  it  even  from  be- 


64  THE  PARLLWEXT   OF  PARIS. 

bind  judgment-seats,  liave  come  in  contact  with  tlae  actual 
workings  of  the  world.  The  Counsellor  of  Parlement,  tbe 
President  himself,  who  has  bought  his  place  with  hard. money 
that  he  might  be  looked  up  to  by  his  fellow-creatures,  liow 
shall  he,  in  aU  Philosophe-soirues,  and  saloons  of  elegant  cul- 
ture, become  notable  as  a  Friend  of  Darkness  ?  Among  the 
Paris  Long-robes  there  may  be  more  than  one  patriotic  Male- 
sherbes,  whose  rule  is  conscience  and  the  public  good  ;  there 
are  clearly  more  than  one  hot-headed  d'Espremenil,  to  whose 
confused  thought  any  loud  reputation  of  the  Brutus  sort  may 
seem  glorious.  The  Lapelletiers,  Lamoig-nons  have  titles  and 
wealth  ;  yet,  at  Court,  are  only  styled  '  Noblesse  of  the  Robe' 
There  are  Duports  of  deep  scheme  ;  Freteaus,  Sabatiers,  of 
incontinent  tongue  :  all  nursed  more  or  less  on  the  milk  of 
the  ContraL  Social.  Nay,  for  the  whole  Body,  is  not  this  patrio- 
tic opposition  also  a  fighting  for  oneself '?  Awake,  Parlement  of 
Paris,  renew  thy  long  warfare  !  Was  not  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou  abolished  with  ignominy?  Not  now  hast  thou  to  dread 
a  Louis  XW.,  with  the  crack  of  his  whip,  and  his  Olympian 
looks  ;  not  now  a  Richelieu  and  Bastilles  :  no,  the  whole  Nation 
is  behind  thee.  Thou  too  (0  heavens  !)  may  est  become  a  Po- 
litical Power  ;  and  with  the  shakings  of  thj'  horse-hair  wig, 
shake  principahties  and  dynasties,  like  a  very  Jove  with  his 
ambrosial  curls ! 

Light  old  M.  de  Maurepas,  since  the  end  of  1781,  has  been 
fixed  in  the  frost  of  death  :  "  never  more,"  said  the  good  Louis, 
"  shall  I  hear  his  step  in  the  room  there  overhead  :  "  his  light 
jestings  and  gyi'atings  are  at  an  end.  No  more  can  the  impor- 
tunate reality  be  hidden  by  pleasant  wit,  and  to-day's  evil  be 
deftly  rolled  over  upon  to-morrow.  The  morrow  itself  has  ar- 
rived ;  and  now  nothing  but  a  solid  phlegmatic  M.  de  Ycr- 
gennes  sits  there,  in  dull  matter  of  fact,  hke  some  dull  punctual 
Clerk  (which  he  originally  was) ;  admits  what  cannot  be  de* 
nied,  let  the  remedy  come  whence  it  will.  In  him  is  no 
remedy  ;  only  clei'klike  '  dispatch  of  business '  according  to 
routine.  The  poor  King,  grown  older  yet  hardly  more  ex- 
perienced, must  himself,  with  such  no-faculty  as  he  has,  begin 


DISHONOURED  BILLS.  65 

governing;  wherein  also  liis  Queen  will  give  heljo.  Bright 
Queen,  with  her  quick  clear  glances  and  impulses  ;  clear,  and 
even  noble  ;  but  ail-too  superficial,  vehement-shallow,  for  that 
work  !  To  govern  France  were  such  a  problem  ;  and  now  it 
has  grown  well-nigh  too  hard  to  govern  even  the  CEil-de- 
Boeuf.  For  if  a  distressed  People  has  its  cry,  so  likevdse,  and 
more  audibly,  has  a  bereaved  Court.  To  the  OEil-de-Boeuf  it 
remains  inconceivable  how,  in  a  France  of  such  resources, 
the  Horn  of  Plenty  should  run  dry  :  did  it  not  use  to  flow  ? 
Nevertheless  Necker,  with  his  revenue  of  parsimony,  has  '  sup- 
joressed  above  six  hundred  places,'  before  the  Courtiers  could 
oust  him  ;  parsimonious  finance-i^edant  as  he  was.  Again,  a 
military  pedant,  Saint  Germain,  with  his  Prussian  manceu- 
■*Tes  ;  with  his  Prussian  notions,  as  if  merit  and  not  coat-of-arms 
should  be  the  rule  of  promotion,  has  disaffected  militaiy  men ; 
the  Mousquetaires,  with  much  else  ai-e  suppressed  :  for  he  too 
was  one  of  your  suppressors,  and  unsettling  and  oversetting,  did 
mere  mischief — to  the  OEil-de-Boeuf.  Complaints  abound  : 
scarcity,  anxiety  :  it  is  a  changed  (Eil-de-Bceuf.  Besenval  says, 
already  in  these  years  (1781)  there  was  such  a  melancholy 
(such  a  tridense)  about  Court,  compared  with  former  days,  as. 
made  it  quite  dispiriting  to  look  upon. 

No  wonder  that  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  feels  melancholy,  when 
you  are  suppressing  its  places !  Not  a  j)lace  can  be  sup- 
pressed, but  some  purse  is  the  lighter  for  it ;  and  more  than 
one  heart  the  heavier  ;  for  did  it  not  employ  the  working 
classes  too, — manufacturers,  male  and  female,  of  laces,  es- 
sences ;  of  Pleasure  generally,  whosoever  could  manufactm-e 
Pleasure  ?  Miserable  economies  ;  never  felt  over  Twenty-five 
^Millions !  So,  however,  it  goes  on  :  and  is  not  yet  ended. 
Few  years  more  and  the  Wolf-hounds  shall  fall  suppressed, 
the  Bear-hounds,  the  Falconry  ;  places  shall  fall,  thick  as 
autumnal  leaves.  Duke  de  Polignac  demonstrates,  to  the 
complete  silencing  of  ministerial  logic,  that  his  place  cannot 
be  abolished  ;  then  gallantly,  turning  to  the  Queen,  sur- 
renders it,  since  her  Majesty  so  wishes.  Less  chivah-ous  was 
Duke  de  Coigny,  and  yet  not  luckier :  "  we  got  into  a  real 

quarrel,  Coigny  and  I,"  said  King  Louis  ;  "  but  if  he  had  even 
Vol.  1.-5 


GG  THE  PAnLEMEJS^l-   OF  rABIS. 

struck  me,  I  could  not  liave  blamed  liim."  *  In  regard  to 
such  matters  there  can  be  but  one  opinion.  Baron  Beseuval, 
with  that  frankness  of  speech  which  stamps  the  independent 
man,  plainly  assures  her  Majesty  that  it  is  frightful  [q/J-'reux]  ; 
"you  go  to  bed,  and  are  not  sure  but  you  shall  rise  im- 
"  poverished  on  the  morrow  :  one  might  as  well  be  in  Turkey." 
It  is  indeed  a  dog's  life. 

How  singular  this  pei-petual  distress  of  the  royal  treasury ! 
And  yet  it°is  a  thing  not  more  incredible  than  undeniable. 
A  thing  mournfiTUy  true  :  the  stumbling-block  on  which  all 
ministers  successively  stumble,  and  fall.  Be  it  '  want  of  fiscal 
genius,'  or  some  far  other  want,  there  is  the  palpablest  dis- 
crepancy between  Eevenue  and  Expenditure  ;  a  Deficit  of  the 
Revenue :  you  must  '  choke  {combler)  the  Deficit,'  or  else  it 
will  swallow  you  !  This  is  the  stern  problem  ;  hopeless  seem- 
ino-ly  as  squaring  of  the  circle.  Controller  Joly  de  Fleury, 
who'  succeeded  Necker,  could  do  nothing  with  it ;  nothing  but 
propose  loans,  which  were  tardily  filled  up  ;  impose  new  taxes, 
unproductive  of  money,  productive  of  clamour  and  discontent. 
As  little  could  Controller  d'Ormesson  do,  or  even  less  ;  for  if 
Joly  maintained  himself  beyond  year  and  day,  d'Ormesson 
reckons  only  by  months:  till  'the  King  purchased  Ram- 
bouiUet  without  consulting  him,'  which  he  took  as  a  hint  to 
withdraw.  And  so,  towards  the  end  of  1783,  matters  threaten 
to  come  to  a  still-stand.  Vain  seems  human  ingenuity.  In 
vain  has  our  newly-devised  'Council  of  Finances '  struggled, 
our  Intendants  of  Finance,  Controller-General  of  Finances  : 
there  are  unhappily  no  Finances  to  control.  Fatal  paralysis 
invades  the  social  movement;  clouds,  of  bhndness  or  of 
blackness,  envelope  us  :  are  we  breaking  down,  then,  into  the 
black  horrors  of  National  Bankruptcy? 

Great  is  Bankruptcy  :  the  great  bottomless  gulf  into  which 
all  Falsehoods,  public  and  private,  do  sink,  disappearing; 
whither,  from  the  first  origin  of  them,  they  were  all  doomed. 
For  Nature  is  true  and  not  a  lie.  No  lie  you  can  speak  or 
act  but  it  will  come,  after  longer  or  shorter  circulation,  like  a 
Bill  drawn  on  Nature's  Reality,  and  be  presented  there  for 
*  Beseuval,  iii.  255-258. 


DisnoyouusD  bills.  C7 

payment, — with  the  auswer,  No  cffecU.  Pity  only  that  it 
often  had  so  long  a  circulation  :  that  the  original  forger  were 
so  seldom  he  who  bore  the  final  smart  of  it !  Lies,  and  the 
burden  of  evil  they  bring,  are  passed  on  ;  shifted  from  back 
to  back,  and  from  rank  to  rank  ;  and  so  land  ultimately  on 
the  dumb  lowest  rank,  who  with  spade  and  mattock,  with  sore 
heart  and  empty  wallet,  daily  come  in  contact  with  reality, 
and  can  pass  the  cheat  no  fui-ther. 

Observe  nevertheless  how,  by  a  just  compensating  law  if  the 
lie  with  its  burden  (in  this  confused  whirlpool  of  Society) 
sinks  and  is  shifted  ever  downwards,  then  in  retui'n  the  dis- 
tress of  it  rises  ever  upwards  and  upwards.  Whereby,  after 
the  long  pining  and  demi-starvation  of  those  Twenty  Millions, 
a  Duke  de  Coigny  and  his  Majesty  come  also  to  have  theii* 
'real  quarrel.'  Such  is  the  law  of  just  Natui'e  ;  bringing, 
though  at  long  intervals,  and  were  it  only  by  Bankruptcy, 
matters  round  again  to  the  mark. 

But  with  a  Fortunatus'  Purse  in  its  pocket,  through  what 
length  of  time  might  not  almost  any  Falsehood  last !  Your 
Society,  your  Household,  practical  or  spmtual  Arrangement, 
is  untrue,  unjust,  offensive  to  the  eye  of  God  and  man. 
Nevertheless  its  hearth  is  warm,  its  larder  well  replenished  : 
the  innumerable  Swiss  of  Heaven,  with  a  kind  of  natural  loy- 
alty, gather  round  it ;  wiU  prove,  by  pamphleteering,  muske- 
teering  that  it  is  a  Truth ;  or  if  not  an  unmixed  (unearthly, 
impossible)  Truth,  then  better,  a  wholesomely  attempered  one 
(as  wind  is  to  the  shorn  lamb),  and  works  well.  Changed 
outlook,  however,  when  purse  and  larder  grow  empty  !  Was 
your  Arrangement  so  true,  so  accordant  to  Nature's  ways, 
then  how,  in  the  name  of  Avonder,  has  Nature,  with  her  infin- 
ite bounty,  come  to  leave  it  famishing  there?  To  all  men,  to 
all  women  and  all  children,  it  is  now  indubitable  that  your 
Arrangement  was  fahe.  Honour  to  Bankruptcy  ;  ever  right- 
eous on  the  great  scale,  though  in  detail  it  is  so  cruel !  Under 
all  Falsehoods  it  works,  unweariedly  mining.  No  Falsehood, 
did  it  rise  heaven-high  and  cover  the  world,  but  Bankruptcy, 
one  day,  will  sweep  it  down,  and  make  us  free  of  it. 


C8  THE  PAllLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  n. 

CONTKOLLEK    CALONNE. 

TTsTDfiR  surli  circumstances  of  tristesse,  obstruction  and  sick 
languor,  when  to  an  exasperated  Court  it  seems  as  if  fiscal 
genius  had  departed  from  among  men,  what  apparition  could 
be  welcomer  than  that  of  M.  de  Calonne  ?  Calonne,  a  man 
of  indisputable  genius ;  even  fiscal  genius,  more  or  less  ;  of 
experience  both  in  managing  Finance  and  Parlements,  for  he 
has  been  Intendant  at  Metz,  at  Lille  ;  King's  Procureur  at 
Douai.  A  man  of  weight,  connected  with  the  monied  classes  ; 
of  unstained  name, — if  it  were  not  some  peccadillo  (of  show- 
ing a  Client's  Letter)  in  that  old  d'Aiguillon-Lachalotais  busi- 
ness, as  good  as  forgotten  now.  He  has  kinsmen  of  heavy 
purse,  felt  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  Our  Foulons,  Berthiers 
intrigue  for  him  :— old  Foulon  who  has  now  nothing  to  do 
but  intrigue  ;  who  is  known  and  even  seen  to  be  what  they 
call  a  scoundrel ;  but  of  unmeasured  wealth  ;  who,  from  Com- 
missariat-clerk which  he  once  was,  may  hope,  some  think,  if 
the  game  go  right,  to  be  Minister  himself  one  day. 

Such  propping  and  backing  has  M.  de  Calonne  ;  and  then 
intrinsically  such  qualities !  Hope  radiates  from  his  face  ; 
persuasion  bangs  on  his  tongue.  For  all  straits  he  has  pres- 
ent remedy,  and  will  make  the  world  roll  on  wheels  before 
him.  On  the  3d  of  November,  1783,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  re- 
joices in  its  new  Controller-General.  Calonne  also  shall  have 
trial ;  Calonne  also,  in  his  way,  as  Turgot  and  Necker  had 
done  in  theirs,  shall  forward  the  consummation  ;  suffuse,  Avith 
one  other  flush  of  brilliancy,  our  now  too  leaden-coloured  Era 
of  Hope,  and  wind  it  up— into  fulfilment. 

Great,  in  any  case,  is  the  felicity  of  the  CEil-de-Bceuf.  Stin- 
giness has  fled  from  these  royal  abodes  ;  suppression  ceases  ; 
your  Besenval  may  go  peaceably  to  sleep,  sure  that  he  shall 
awake  uuplundered.     Smiling  Plenty,  as  if  conjured  by  some 


CONTROLLER   CALONNE.  69 

enchanter,  has  returned  ;  scatters  contentment  fi'om  her  new- 
flowing  horn.  And  mark  what  suavity  of  manners  !  A  bland 
smile  distinguishes  our  Controller  :  to  all  men  he  listens  with 
an  air  of  interest,  nay  of  anticipation  ;  makes  their  own  wish 
clear  to  themselves,  and  grants  it ;  or,  at  least,  grants  condi- 
tional promise  of  it.  "I  fear  this  is  a  matter  of  difficulty," 
said  her  Majesty. — "Madame,"  answered  the  Controller,  "if 
ifc  is  but  difficult,  it  is  done  ;  if  it  is  impossible,  it  shall  be 
done  (sefera)."  A  man  of  such  'facility '  withal.  To  observe 
him  in  the  pleasure-vortex  of  society,  which  none  partakes  of 
Avitli  more  gusto,  you  might  ask,  When  does  he  work  ?  And 
yet  his  work,  as  we  see,  is  never  behindhand  ;  above  all,  the 
fruit  of  his  work  :  ready-money.  Truly  a  man  of  incredible 
facility ;  facile  action,  facile  elocution,  facile  thought :  how, 
in  mild  suasion,  philosophic  depth  sparkles  \ip  from  him,  as 
mere  wit  and  lambent  sprightliness  ;  and  in  her  Majesty's 
Soirees,  with  the  weight  of  a  world  lying  on  him,  he  is  the 
delight  of  men  and  women  !  By  what  magic  does  he  accom- 
plish miracles  ?  By  the  only  true  magic,  that  of  genius.  Men 
name  him  '  the  Minister  ; '  as,  indeed,  when  was  there  another 
such?  Crooked  things  are  become  straight  by  him,  rough 
places  jjlain  ;  and  over  the  Qllil-de-Boeuf  there  rests  an  un- 
speakable sunshine. 

Nay,  in  seriousness,  let  no  man  say  that  Calonne  had  not 
geliius  :  genius  for  Persuading  ;  before  all  things,  for  Bor- 
rowing. With  the  skilfuUest  judicious  appliances  of  under- 
hand money,  he  keeps  the  Stock-Exchanges  flourishing ;  so 
that  Loan  after  Loan  is  filled  up  as  soon  as  opened.  '  Calcu- 
1  itors  likely  to  know '  *  have  calculated  that  he  sjDent,  in  ex- 
traordinaries,  'at  the  rate  of  one  million  daily;'  which,  in- 
deed, is  some  fifty  thousand  pounds  sterling  :  but  did  he  not 
procure  something  with  it :  namely,  peace  and  prosj^erit}^,  for 
the  time  being  ?  Philosophedom  grumbles  and  croaks  ;  buys, 
as  we  said,  80,000  copies  of  Necker's  new  Book  :  but  Nonpa- 
reil Calonne,  in  her  Majesty's  Apartment,  with  the  glittering 
retinue  of  Dukes,  Duchesses,  and  mere  happy  admiring  faces, 
can  let  Necker  and  Philosophedom  croak. 
*  Besenval,  iii.  216. 


70  THE  rARLEMENT   OF  PARIS. 

The  misery  is,  sucli  a  time  camiot  last !  Squandering,  and 
Payment  by  Loan,  is  no  way  to  choke  a  Deficit.  Neither  is 
oil  the  substance  for  quenching  conflagrations  ;^alas,  no, 
only  for  assuaging  them,  not  permanently  !  To  the  Nonpa- 
reil himself,  who  wanted  not  insight,  it  is  clear  at  intervals, 
and  dimly  certain  at  all  times,  that  his  trade  is  by  nature 
temporary,  growing  daily  more  difficult ;  that  changes  incal- 
culable lie  at  no  great  distance.  Apart  from  financial  Deficit, 
the  w^orld  is  wholly  in  such  a  new-fangled  humour ;  all  things 
\vorking  loose  from  their  old  fastenings,  towards  new  issues 
and  combinations.  There  is  not  a  dwarf  jokei,  a  cropt 
Brutus'-head,  or  Anglomaniac  horseman  rising  on  his  stir- 
rups, that  does  not  betoken  change.  But  what  then  ?  The 
day,  in  any  case,  passes  pleasantly  ;  for  the  morrow,  if  the 
morrow  come,  there  shall  be  counsel  too.  Once  mounted  (by 
munificence,  suasion,  magic  of  genius)  high  enough  in  favour 
with  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf,  with  the  King,  Queen,  Stock-Ex- 
change, and  so  far  as  possible  with  all  men,  a  Nonpareil  Con- 
troller may  hope  to  go  careering  through  the  Inevitable,  in 
some  unimagined  way,  as  handsomely  as  another. 

At  all  events,  for  these  three  miraculous  years,  it  has  been 
expedient  heaped  on  expedient :  till  now,  with  such  cumula- 
tion and  height,  the  pile  topples  perilous.  And  here  has  this 
Avorld's-wonder  of  a  Diamond  Necklace  brought  it  at  last  to 
the  clear  verge  of  tumbling.  Genius  in  that  direction,  can 
no  more  :  mounted  high  enough,  or  not  mounted,  w^e  must 
fare  forth.  Hardly  is  poor  Rohan,  the  Necklace-Cardinal, 
safely  bestowed  in  the  Auvergne  Mountains;  Dame  de  la 
Motte  (unsafely)  in  the  Salpetriere,  and  that  mournful  busi- 
ness hushed  up,  when  our  sanguine  Controller  once  more  as- 
tonishes the  world.  An  expedient  unheard  of  for  these  hun- 
dred and  sixty  years,  has  been  propounded  ;  and,  by  dint  of 
suasion  (for  his  light  audacity,  his  hope  and  eloquence  are 
matchless)  has  been  got  adopted, — Convocation  of  the  Notables. 
Let  notable  persons,  the  actual  or  virtual  rulers  of  their 
districts,  be  summoned  from  all  sides  of  France  :  let  a  true 
tale,  of  his  Majesty's  patriotic  purposes  and  wi-etched  pecu- 
niary impossibilities,  be  suasively  told  them,  and  then  the 


THE  NOTABLES.  71 

question  put :  "What  are  we  to  do  ?  Surely  to  adopt  healing 
measures  ;  such  as  the  magic  of  genius  will  unfold  ;  such  as 
once  sanctioned  by  Notables,  all  Parlements  and  all  men 
must,  with  more  or  less  reluctance,  submit  to. 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE   NOTABLES. 


Here  then  is  verily  a  sign  and  wonder  ;  visible  to  the  whole 
world  ;  bodeful  of  much.  The  CEil-de-Boeuf  dolorously'  grum- 
bles ;  were  we  not  well  as  we  stood, — quenching  conflagra- 
tions by  oil  ?  Constitutional  Philosophedom  starts  with  joy- 
ful surprise  ;  stares  eagerly  what  the  result  will  be.  The 
public  creditoi",  the  public  debtor,  the  whole  thinljing  and 
thoughtless  public  have  their  sevei'al  surprises,  joyful  or  sor- 
rowful. Count  Mirabeau,  who  has  got  his  matrimonial  and 
other  Lawsuits  huddled  up,  better  or  worse  ;  and  works  now 
in  the  dimmest  element  at  Berlin :  compiling  Prussian  lion- 
archies,  Pamphlets  On  Caglioiftro  ;  writing,  with  pay,  but  not 
with  honourable  recognition,  innumerable  Despatches  for  his 
Government, — scents  or  descries  richer  quarry  from  afar. 
He,  like  an  eagle  or  vulture,  or  mixture  of  both,  preens  his 
wings  for  flight  homewards.* 

M.  de  Calonne  has  stretched  out  an  Aaron's  Rod  over 
France  ;  miraculous;  and  is  summoning  quite  unexpected 
things.  Audacity  and  hope  alternate  in  him  Avith  misgiv- 
ings ;  though  the  sanguine-valiant  side  carries  it.  Anon  he 
writes  to  an  intimate  friend,  '  Je  me  fais  piiie  d  vioi-mtme  (I 
am  an  object  of  pity  to  myself)  ; '  anon,  invites  some  dedica- 
ting Poet  or  Poetaster  to  sing  '  this  Assembly  of  the  Notables, 
and  the  Revolution  that  is  preparing.'!  Preparing,  indeed  ; 
and  a  matter  to  be  sung,— only  not  till  we  have  seen  it,  and 
what  the  issue  of  it  is.  In  deep  obscure  unrest,  all  things 
have  so  long  gone  rocking  and  swaying  ;  will  M.  de  Calonne, 
with  this  his  alchemy  of  the  Notables,  fasten  all  together 

*  Fils  Adopti^ :  M  moires  de  Mirabeau,  t.  iv.  11  vv.  4  and  5, 
f  Eiographie  Universelle,  g  Calonne  vby  Guizot). 


12  THE  PARLEMBNT   OF  PAULS. 

again,  and  get  new  revenues  ?  Or  \\i  encli  all  asunder  ;  so 
that  it  go  no  longer  rocking  and  swaying,  but  clashing  and 
colliding  ? 

Be  this  as  it  ma}',  in  the  bleak  short  days,  we  behold  men 
of  weight  and  influence,  threading  the  great  vortex  of  French 
Locomotion,  each  on  his  several  line,  from  all  sides  of  France, 
towards  the  Chateau  of  Versailles  :  summoned  thither  de  par 
le  roi.  There,  on  the  22d  day  of  February,  1787,  they  have 
met,  and  got  installed  :  Notables  to  the  number  of  a  Hundred 
and  Thirty- seven,  as  we  count  them  name  byname;*  add 
Seven  Princes  of  the  Bloocl,  it  makes  the  round  Gross  of  No- 
tables. Men  of  the  sword,  men  of  the  robe  ;  Peers,  dignified 
Clergy,  Parhamentary  Presidents  :  di\ided  into  Seven  Boards 
(Bureaux)  ;  under  our  Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  Monsieur, 
d'Ai-tois,  Penthievi-e,  and  the  rest ;  among  whom  let  not  oui- 
new  Duke  d'Orleaus  (for,  smce  1785,  he  is  Chartres  no  longer) 
be  forgotten.  Never  yet  made  Admiral,  and  now  turning  the 
comer  of  his  fortieth  year,  with  spoiled  blood  and  prospects  ; 
half  weary  of  a  world  which  is  more  than  half-weary  of  him, 
Monseigneur's  future  is  most  questionable.  Not  in  illumina- 
tion and  insight,  not  even  in  conflagration  ;  but,  as  was  said, 
*  in  dull  smoke  and  ashes  of  out-burnt  Sensuahties,'  does  he 
live  and  digest.  Sumptuosity  and  sordidness  ;  revenge,  life- 
weariness,  ambition,  darkness,  putrescence  ;  and,  say,  in  ster- 
ling money,  three  hundred  thousand  a  year, — were  this  poor 
Prince  once  to  burst  loose  from  his  Court-moorings,  to  what 
regions,  with  what  phenomena,  might  he  not  sail  and  drift ! 
Happily  as  yet  he  '  aft'ects  to  hunt  daily  ; '  sits  there,  since  he 
must  sit,  presiding  that  Bureau  of  his,  with  dull  moon-visage, 
dull  glassy  eyes,  as  if  it  were  a  mere  tedium  to  him. 

We  observe  finally  that  Count  Mirabeau  has  actually  ar- 
rived. He  descends  from  Berlin,  on  the  scene  of  action ; 
glares  into  it  with  flashing  sun-glance  ;  discerns  that  it  will 
do  nothing  for  him.  He  had  hoped  these  Notables  might 
need  a  Secretary.  They  do  need  one ;  but  have  fixed  on  Du- 
pont  de  Nemoui-s ;  a  man  of  smaller  fame,  but  then  of  bet- 
ter ; — who  indeed,  as  his  friends  often  hear,  hibours  under 
*  Lacretelle.  iii   28G.     Moiit-raillard,  i   847. 


THE  NOTABLES.  73 

this  complaint,  surely  not  a  universal  one,  of  having  'five 
kings  to  correspond  with.'*  The  pen  of  a  Mirabeau  cannot 
become  an  artificial  one  ;  nevertheless  it  remains  a  pen.  Li 
defect  of  Secretaryship,  he  sets  to  denouncing  Stock-broker- 
age (Denonciation  de  T Agiotage) ;  testifying,  as  his  wont  is, 
by  loud  bruit,  that  he  is  present  and  busy  ; — till,  warned  by 
friend  Talleyrand,  and  even  by  Calonne  himself  underhand, 
that  '  a  seventeenth  Letire-de-  Cachet  may  be  launched  against 
him,'  he  timefuUy  flits  over  the  marches. 

And  now,  in  stately  royal  apartments,  as  Pictm-es  of  that 
time  still  represent  them,  our  hundred  and  forty -four  Notables 
sit  organised ;  ready  to  hear  and  consider.  Controller  Calonne 
is  dreadfully  behindhand  with  his  speeches,  his  preparatives  ; 
however  the  man's  '  facility  of  work '  is  known  to  us.  For 
freshness  of  style,  lucidity,  ingenuity,  largeness  of  view,  that 
opening  Harangue  of  his  was  unsurpassable  : — had  not  the 
subject  matter  been  so  appalling.  A  Deficit,  concerning 
which  accounts  vary,  and  the  Controller's  own  account  is  not 
unquestioned  ;  but  which  all  accounts  agree  in  representing 
as  '  enormous.'  This  is  the  epitome  of  our  Controller's  diffi- 
culties :  and  then  his  means  ?  Mere  Turgotism  ;  for  thither, 
it  seems,  we  must  come  at  last :  Provincial  Assembhes  ;  new 
Taxation  ;  nay,  strangest  of  all,  new  Landtax,  what  he  calls 
Subvention  Territoriale,  from  which  neither  Privileged  nor 
Unprivileged,  Noblemen,  Clergy,  nor  Parlementeers,  shall  be 
exempt ! 

Foolish  enough  !  These  Privileged  Classes  have  been  used 
to  tax  ;  levying  toll,  tribute,  and  custom,  at  all  hands,  while  a 
penny  vv^as  left :  but  to  be  themselves  taxed  ?  Of  such  Privi- 
leged persons,  meanwhile,  do  these  Notables,  all  but  the  merest 
fraction,  consist.  Headlong  Calonne  had  given  no  heed  to  the 
'  comiiosition,'or  judicious  packing  of  them  ;  but  chosen  such 
Notables  as  were  really  notable  ;  trusting  for  the  issue  to 
off-hand  ingenuity,  good  fortune,  and  eloquence  that  never 
yet  failed.  Headlong  Controller-General !  Eloquence  can  do 
much,  but  not  all.  Orpheus,  with  eloquence  grown  rhythmic, 
musical  (what  we  call  Poetry),  drew  iron  tears  from  the  cheek 
*Dumont:   Souvenirs  sui-  r.Iirabeaii  Taris,  18S3^  p   29. 


74:  TUS  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

of  Pluto  :  but  by  what  witcliery  of  rliyme  or  prose  wilt  tliou, 
from  the  pocket  of  Plutus,  draw  gold  ? 

Accordingly,  the  storm  that  now  rose  and  began  to  whistle 
round  Calonne,  first  iu  these  Seven  Bureaus,  and  then  on  the 
outside  of  them,  awakened  by  them,  spreading  wider  and  wider 
over  all  France,  threatens  to  become  unappeasable.  A  De- 
ficit so  enormous  !  Mismanagement,  profusion  is  too  clear. 
Peculation  itself  is  hinted  at ;  nay,  Lafayette  and  others  go  so 
far  as  to  speak  it  out,  with  attemps  at  proof.  The  blame  of 
his  Deficit  our  brave  Calonne,  as  Avas  natural,  had  endeavoured 
to  shift  from  himself  on  his  predecessors  ;  not  excepting  eveu 
Necker.  But  now  Necker  vehemently  denies  ;  whereupon  an 
'  angry  Correspondence,'  which  also  finds  its  way  into  print. 

In  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf,  and  her  Majesty's  private  Apartments, 
an  eloquent  Controller,  with  his  '  Madame,  if  it  is  but  difl&- 
cult,'  had  been  persuasive  ;  biit,  alas,  the  cause  is  now  carried 
/elsewhither.  Behold  him,  one  of  these  sad  days,  in  Monsieur's 
Bureau  ;  to  which  all  the  other  Bureaus  have  sent  deputies. 
He  is  standing  at  bay  :  alone  ;  exposed  to  an  incessant  fire  of 
questions,  interpellations,  objurgations,  from  those  '  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  '  pieces  of  logic-ordnance, — what  we  may  well 
call  touches  a  feu,  fire-mouths  literally  !  Never,  according  to 
Besenval,  or  hardly  ever,  had  such  disf)lay  of  intellect,  dex- 
terity, coolness,  suasive  eloquence,  been  made  by  man.  To 
the  raging  play  of  so  many  fire-mouths  he  opposes  nothing 
angrier  than  hght-beams,  self-possession,  and  fatherly  smiles. 
With  the  impertubablest  bland  clearness,  he,  for  five  hours 
long,  keeps  answering  the  incessant  volley  of  fiery  captious 
questions,  reproachful  interpellations  ;  in  words  prompt  as 
lightning,  quiet  as  light.  Nay,  the  cross-fire  too  :  such  side- 
questions  and  incidental  interpellations  as,  in  the  heat  of  the 
main-battle,  he  (having  only  one  tongue)  could  not  get  an- 
swered ;  these  also  he  takes  up,  at  the  first  slake  ;  answers 
even  these.*  Could  blandest  suasive  eloquence  have  saved 
Fi-ance,  she  wei*e  saved. 

Heavy-laden  Controller  !  In  the  Seven  Bureaus,  seems  noth- 
ing but  hinderance  :  in  Monsieur's  Bureau  a  Lomenie  de 
*  Besenval,  iii.  1%. 


TUE  NOTABLES.  To 

Brienne,  Arclibisliop  of  Toulouse,  with  an  eye  himself  to  the 
Controllership,  stirs  up  the  clergy  ;  there  are  meetings,  under- 
ground intrigues.  Neither  from  without  anywhere  cornea 
sign  of  help  or  hope.  For  the  nation  (where  Mirabeau  is  now, 
with  stentor-lungs,  '  denouncing  Agio ')  the  Controller  has 
hitherto  done  nothing,  or  less.  For  Philosoj)hedom  he  has 
done  as  good  as  nothing, — sent  out  some  scientific  Laperouse, 
or  the  like  :  and  is  he  not  in  '  angry  correspondence '  with  its 
Necker?  The  very  (Eil-de-Boeuf  looks  questionable;  a  fall- 
ing Controller  has  no  friends.  Solid  M.  de  Vergennes,  who 
Avith  his  phlegmatic  judicious  piinctuality  might  have  kept 
down  many  things,  died  the  very  week  before  these  sorrowful 
Notables  met.  And  now  a  Seal-keeper,  Garde-des-Sceaux, 
Miromenil  is  thought  to  be  playing  the  traitor  :  spinning 
plots  for  Lomenie-Brienne  !  Queen 's-Reader  Abbe  de  Ver- 
mond,  unloved  individual,  was  Brienne's  creature,  the  work 
of  his  hands  from  the  first :  it  may  be  feared  the  backstairs 
passage  is  open,  the  ground  getting  mined  under  our  feet. 
Treacherous  Garde-des-Sceaux  Miromenil,  at  least,  should  be 
dismissed  ;  Lamoignon,  the  eloquent  Notable,  a  stanch  man, 
with  connexions,  and  even  ideas,  Parlement-President  yet  in- 
tent on  reforming  Parlements,  were  not  he  the  right  Keeper  ? 
So,  for  one,  thinks  busy  Besenval ;  and,  at  dinner-table,  rounds 
the  same  into  the  Controller's  ear, — who  always,  in  the  in- 
tervals of  landlord-duties,  listens  to  him  as  with  charmed  look, 
but  ansv^^ers  nothing  positive.* 

Alas,  what  to  answer  ?  The  force  of  private  intrigue,  and 
then  also  the  force  of  public  opinion,  grows  so  dangerous,  con- 
fused !  Philosophedom  sneers  aloud,  as  if  its  Necker  already 
triumphed.  The  gaping  populace  gapes  over  Wood-cuts  or 
Copper-cuts ;  where,  for  example,  a  Eustic  is  represented  con- 
voking the  Poulti-y  of  his  barnyard,  with  this  ojjening  address: 
"  Dear  animals,  I  have  assembled  you  to  advise  me  what 
sauce  I  shall  dress  you  with ; "  to  which  a  Cock  responding, 
"We  don't  want  to  be  eaten,"  is  checked  by  "You  wander 
from  the  point  {Vous  vous ecartez  de  la  question)." f    Laughter 

*  Besenval,  iii.  203. 

f  Republished  in  the  Musfe  de  la  Caricature.     (Paris,  1834.) 


7<>  THE  PARLEMENT   OF  PARIS. 

and  logic  ;  ballad-singer,  pami)lileteer ;  ei^igram  and  carica- 
ture :  what  wind  of  public  opinion  is  this, — as  if  the  Cave  of 
the  "Winds  were  bursting  loose  !  At  nightfall,  President  La- 
moignon  steals  over  to  the  Controller's  ;  finds  him  '  walking 
Avith  largo  strides  in  his  chamber,  like  one  out  of  himself.'* 
With  rapid  confused  speech  the  Controller  begs  M.  de  La- 
moignon  to  give  him  'an  advice.'  Lamoignon  candidly 
answers  that,  except  in  regard  to  his  own  anticipated  Iveeper- 
sliip,  unless  that  would  prove  remedial,  he  really  cannot  take 
upon  him  to  advise. 

'  On  the  Monday  after  Easter,'  the  9th  of  April,  1787,  a  date 
one  rejoices  to  verify,  for  nothing  can  excel  the  indolent  false- 
hood of  these  liistoires  and  llemoires, — ■'  On  the  Monday  after 
'  Eiistei',  as  I,  Besenval,  was  riding  towards  Eomainville  to  the 
'  Marechal  de  Segvir's,  I  met  a  friend  on  the  Boulevards,  who 
*  told  me  that  M.  de  Colonne  was  out.  A  little  further  on 
'  came  M.  the  Duke  d'Orleans,  dashing  towards  me,  head  to 
'the  wind'  (trottinge^  VAnglaUe)  'and  confirmed  the  news.'f 
It  is  true  news.  Treacherous  Garde-des-Sceaux  Miromunil  is 
gone,  and  Lamoignon  is  appointed  in  his  room  :  but  ap- 
pointed for  his  own  profit  only,  not  for  the  Controller's  ;  '  next 
day,'  the  Controller  also  has  had  to  move.  A  little  longer  he 
may  linger  near  ;  be  seen  among  the  money-changers,  and 
even  '  working  in  the  Controller's  office,'  where  much  lies  un- 
finished :  but  neither  will  that  hold.  Too  strong  blows  and 
beats  this  tempest  of  public  opinion,  of  private  intrigue,  as 
from  the  Cave  of  all  the  Winds  ;  and  blows  him  (higher  author- 
ity giving  sign)  out  of  Paris  and  France, — over  the  horizon, 
into  Invisibility,  or  outer  Darkness. 

Such  destiny  the  magic  of  genius  could  not  forever  avert. 
Ungrateful  CEil-de-Boeuf !  did  he  not  miraculously  rain  gold 
manna  on  you  ;  so  that,  as  a  Courtier  said,  "  all  the  world 
held  out  its  hand,  and  I  held  out  my  hat,"— for  a  time ! 
Himself  is  jioor  ;  penniless,  had  not  a  '  Financier's  widow  in 
Lorraine  '  offered  him,  though  he  was  turned  of  fifty,  her  hand 
and  the  rich  purse  it  held.  Dim  henceforth  shall  be  his 
activity,  though  unwearied ;  Letters  to  the  King,  Appeals, 
'Besenval,  iii.   209.  f  Beseuval,  iii.  211. 


THE  NOTABLES.  T7 

Prognostications ;  Pamphlets  (from  London),  written  with 
the  old  suasive  facility  ;  which  however  do  not  persuade. 
Luckily  his  widow's  purse  fails  not.  Once,  in  a  year  or  two, 
some  shadow  of  him  shall  be  seen  hovering  on  the  Northern 
Border,  seeking  election  as  National  Deputy  ;  but  be  sternly 
beckoned  away.  Dimmer  thcD,  far-borne  over  utmost  Eu- 
ropean lands,  in  uncertain  twilight  of  dii^lomacy,  he  shall 
hover,  intriguing  for  'Exiled  Princes,' and  have  adventures; 
be  overset  into  the  Pthine-stream,  and  half-drowned,  never- 
theless, save  his  papers  dry.  Unwearied  but  in  vain  !  In 
France  he  works  miracles  no  more  ;  shall  hardly  return 
thither  to  find  a  grave.  Farewell,  thou  facile  sanguine  Con- 
troller-General, with  thy  light  rash  hand,  thy  suasive  mouth  of 
gold  ;  worse  men  there  have  been,  and  better  ;  but  to  thee 
also  was  allotted  a  task, — of  raising  the  wind,  and  the  winds  ; 
and  thou  hast  done  it. 

But  now,  while  Ex-Controller  Calonne  flies  storm-driven 
over  the  horizon,  in  this  singular  way,  what  has  become  of  the 
Control]  ership  ?  It  hangs  vacant,  one  may  say  ;  extinct,  like 
the  Moon  in  lier  vacant  interluuar  cave.  Two  preliminary 
shadows,  poor  M.  Fom-queux,  poor  M.  Villedeuil,  do  hold,  in 
quick  succession,  some  simulacrum  of  it,* — as  the  new  Moon 
will  sometimes  shine  out  with  a  dim  preliminary  old  one  in  her 
arms.  Be  patient,  ye  Notables  !  An  actual  new  Controller 
is  certain,  and  even  ready  ;  were  the  indispensible  manoeuvres 
but  gone  through.  Long-headed  Lamoignon,  with  Home- 
Secretary  Breteuil,  and  Foreign  Secretary  Montmorin,  have 
exchanged  looks  :  let  these  three  once  meet  and  speak.  Who 
is  it  that  is  strong  in  the  Queen's  favour,  and  the  Abbe  de 
Vermond's  ?  That  is  a  man  of  great  capacity  ?  Or  at  least 
that  has  struggled,  these  fifty  years,  to  have  it  thought  great ; 
now,  in  the  Clergy's  name,  demanding  to  have  Protestant 
death-penalties  '  put  in  execution  ; '  now  flaunting  it  in  the 
(Eil-de-Boeuf,  as  the  gayest  man-pleaser  and  woman-pleaser ; 
gleaning  even  a  good  word  from  Philosophedom  and  your 
Voltaires  and  D'Alemberts?  That  has  a  party  ready-made 
*  Besenval,  iii.  225. 


78  THE  FARLEMENT  OF  PAUm 

for  liim  in  the  Notables  ?— Lomenie  de  Brienne,  Archbishop 
of  Toulouse  !  answer  all  the  three,  with  the  clearest  instanta- 
neous concord  ;  and  rush  off  to  propose  him  to  the  King  ;  '  in 
'  such  a  haste,'  says  Besenval,  '  that  M.  de  Lamoignon  had  to 
'  borrow  a  siinarre,'  seemingly  some  kind  of  cloth  apparatus 
necessary  for  thai* 

Lomeuie-Brienne,  who  had  all  his  life  '  felt  a  kind  of  pre- 
destination for  the  highest  offices,'  has  now  therefore  ob- 
tained them.  He  presides  over  the  Finances  ;  he  shall  have 
the  title  of  Prime  Minister  itself,  and  the  effort  of  his  long 
life  be  realised.  Unhappy  only  that  it  took  such  talent  and 
industry  to  gain  the  place  ;  that  to  qualift/  for  it  hardly  any 
talent  or  industry  was  left  disposable  !  Looking  now  into 
his  inner  man,  what  qualification  he  may  have,  Lomenie 
beholds,  not  without  astonishment,  next  to  nothing  but 
vacuity  and  possibility.  Principles  or  methods,  acquirement 
outward  or  inward  (for  his  very  body  is  wasted,  by  hard  tear 
and  wear)  he  finds  none;  not  so  much  as  a  plan,  even  an 
unwise  one.  Lucky,  in  these  circumstances,  that  Calonne  has 
had  a  plan !  Calonne's  plan  was  gathered  from  Turgot's  and 
Necker's  by  compilation  ;  shall  become  Lomenie's  by  adop^ 
tion.  Not  "in  vain  has  Lomenie  studied  the  working  of  the 
British  Constitution  ;  for  he  professes  to  have  some  Anglo- 
mania, of  a  sort.  Why,  in  that  free  country,  does  one 
Minister,  driven  out  by  Parliament,  vanish  from  his  King's 
presence,  and  another  enter,  borne  in  by  Parliament  ?t 
Surely  not  for  mere  change  (which  is  ever  wasteful)  ;  but  that 
all  men  may  have  share  of  what  is  going  ;  and  so  the  strife  oi 
Freedom  indefinitely  prolong  itself,  and  no  harm  be  done. 

The  Notables,  moUified  by  Easter  festivities,  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  Calonne,  are  not  in  the  worst  humour.  Already  his 
Majesty,  Avhile  the  '  interlunar  shadows '  were  in  office,  had 
held  session  of  Notables  ;  and  from  his  throne  delivered 
promissory  conciliatory  eloquence :  'the  Queen  stood  waiting 
'at  a  window,  till  his  carriage  came  back  ;  and  Monsieur  from 

•  Besenval,  iii.  224. 

J  MontgaiUard :  Histoire  de  Franue,  i.  410-17. 


THE  NOTABLES.  iO 

'  afar  clapped  hands  to  lier,'  in  sign  that  all  was  well.*  It  has 
had  the  best  effect ;  if  such  do  but  last.  Leading  Notables 
meanwhile  can  be  'caressed;'  Brieune's  new  gloss,  La- 
moigtiou's  long  head  will  profit  somewhat ;  conciliatory  elo- 
quence shall  not  be  wanting.  On  the  whole,  however,  it  is 
not  undeniable  that  this  of  ousting  C  ilonne  and  adopting  the 
plans  of  Calonne,  is  a  measure,  which,  to  produce  its  best 
effect,  should  be  looked  at  from  a  certain  distance,  cursorily ; 
not  dwelt  on  with  minute  near  scrutiny  ?  In  a  word,  that  no 
service  the  Notables  could  now  do  were  so  obliging  as,  in 
some  handsome  manner,  to  —take  themselves  away  ?  Their 
'  Six  Propositions  '  about  Provisional  Assemblies,  suppression 
of  Coro:es  and  such  like,  can  be  accepted  without  criticism. 
The  Subvention  or  Landtax,  and  much  else,  one  must  glide 
hastil}^  over ;  safe  nowhere  but  in  flourishes  of  conciliatory 
eloquence.  Till  at  length,  on  this  25th  of  May,  year  1787,  in 
solemn  final  session,  there  burst  forth  what  we  can  call  an  ex- 
plosion of  eloquence  ;  King,  Lomenie,  Lamoignon  and  retinue 
taking  up  the  successive  strain  ;  in  harangues  to  the  number 
of  ten,  besides  his  Majesty's,  which  last  the  livelong  day  ;  — 
whereby  as  in  a  kind  of  choral  anthem,  or  bravura  peal,  of 
thanks,  praises,  promises,  the  Notables  are,  so  to  speak,  or- 
ganned  out,  and  dismissed  to  their  respective  places  of  abode. 
They  had  sat,  and  talked,  some  nine  weeks  :  they  were  the  first 
Notables  since  Richelieu's  in  the  year  162G. 

By  some  Historians,  sitting  much  at  their  ease,  in  the  safe 
distance,  Lomenie  has  been  blamed  for  this  dismissal  of  his 
Notables  :  nevertheless  it  was  clearly  time.  There  are  things, 
as  we  said,  which  should  not  be  dwelt  on  with  minute  close 
S3i'utiny  :  over  hot  coals  you  cannot  glide  too  fast.  In  these 
Seven  Bureaus,  where  no  work  could  be  done,  unless  talk 
were  work,  the  questionablest  matters  were  coming  up.  La- 
fayette, for  example,  in  Monseigneur  d'Artois'  Bureau,  took 
upon  him  to  set  forth  more  than  one  deprecatoiy  oration 
about  Lettres-de-Cachet,  Liberty  of  the  Subject,  Agio,  and 
such  like  ;  which  Monseigneur  endeavouring  to  repress,  was 
*  Eestnval,  iii.  230. 


80  THE  PAIlLE:dENT  OF  PAltlS. 

answered  that  a  Notable  beiug  summoned  to  speak  his  opin- 
ion, must  speak  it.* 

Thus  too  his  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Aix  perorating  once, 
■with  a  plaintive  pulpit-tone,  in  these  words :  "  Tithe,  that 
free-will  offering  of  the  piety  of  Christians  " — "  Tithe,"  inter- 
rupted Duke  la  Eochefoucault,  with  the  cold  business-man- 
ner he  has  learned  from  the  English,  "  that  free-will  ofi'ering 
of  the  piety  of  Christians  ;  on  which  there  are  now  forty-thou- 
sand law-suits  in  his  realm."  f  Nay,  Lafayette,  bound  to 
speak  his  opinion,  went  the  length,  one  day,  of  proposing  to 
convoke  a  '  National  Assembly.'  "  You  demand  States-Gen- 
eral ? "  asked  Monseigneur  with  an  air  of  minatory  surprise. 
— "Yes,  Monseigneur  ;  and  even  better  than  that." — "Write 
it,"  said  Monseigneur  to  the  Clerks.];  Written  accordingly  it 
is  ;  and  Avhat  is  more,  will  be  acted  by  and  by. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

lomenie's  edicts. 


Thus  then  have  the  Notables  returned  home  ;  cariying,  to 
all  quarters  of  France,  such  notions  of  deficit,  decrepitude, 
distraction  ;  and  that  States-General  will  cure  it,  or  will  not 
cure  it  but  kill  it.  Each  Notable,  we  may  fancy,  is  as  a  fune- 
real torch  ;  disclosing  hideous  abysses,  better  left  hid  !  The 
uncjuietest  humour  possesses  all  men  ;  ferments,  seeks  issue, 
in  pamphleteering,  caricaturing,  projecting,  declaiming  ;  vain 
jangling  of  thought,  word  and  deed. 

It  is  Si^iritual  Bankruptcy,  long  tolerated  ;  verging  now 
towards  Economical  Bankruptcy,  and  become  intolerable. 
For  from  the  lowest  dumb  rank,  the  inevitable  misery,  as  was 
predicted,  has  spread  upwards.  In  every  man  is  some  ob- 
scure feeling  that  his  position,  oppressive  or  else  oppressed,  is 
a  false  one  :  all  men,  in  one  or  the  other  acrid  dialect,  as  as- 

*Montgaillard,  i.  3G0. 
f  Dumont:   Souvenirs  sur  Mirabean,  p.  21. 

t  Toulongeon  :  Histoire  do  France  depuis  la  Revolution  de  1789  (Paris, 
1803),  i.  app.  4. 


LOMENIE'S  EDICTS.  81 

saulters  or  as  defenders,  must  give  vent  to  the  unrest  that  is 
in  them.  Of  such  stuff  national  well-being,  and  the  glory  of 
rulers,  is  not  made.  O  Lomenie,  what  a  Avild-heaving,  waste- 
looking,  hungry  and  angry  world  hast  thou,  after  lifelong  ef- 
fort, got  promoted  to  take  charge  of ! 

Lomonie's  first  Edicts  are  mere  soothing  ones :  creation  of 
Provincial  Assemblies,  'for  apportioning  the  imposts,' when 
we  get  any  ;  suppression  of  Gormen  or  statute-labour  ;  allevi- 
ation of  Gabelle.  Soothing  measures,  recommended  by  the 
Notables  ;  long  clamoured  for  by  all  hberal  men.  Oil  cast  on 
the  waters  has  been  known  to  produce  a  good  effect.  Beforp 
venturing  with  great  essential  measures,  Lomenie  vdW  see 
this  singular  '  swell  of  the  public  mind '  abate  somewhat. 

Most  proper,  surely.  But  what  if  it  were  not  a  swell  of 
the  abating  kind  ?  There  are  swells  that  come  of  upper  tem- 
pest and  wind-gust.  But  again  there  are  swells  that  come  of 
subterranean  pent  wind,  some  say  ;  and  even  of  inward  de- 
composition, of  decay  that  has  become  self-combustion  : — as 
when,  according  to  Neptuno-Plutonic  Geology,  the  World  is 
all  decayed  down  into  due  attritus  of  this  sort ;  and  shall 
now  be  exploded,  and  new-made  !  These  latter  abate  not  by 
oil. — The  fool  says  in  his  heart.  How  shall  not  tomorrow  be  as 
3'esterday  ;  as  all  days, — which  were  once  tomorrows  ?  The 
wise  man,  looking  on  this  France,  moral,  intellectual,  eco- 
nomical, sees  'in  short  all  the  symptoms  he  has  ever  met  with 
in  history,' — w/iabateable  by  soothing  Edicts. 

Meanwhile,  abate  or  not,  cash  must  be  had  ;  and  for  that, 
quite  another  sort  of  Edicts,  namely  '  bursal '  or  fiscal  ones. 
How  easy  were  fiscal  Edicts,  did  you  know  for  certain  that 
the  Parlement  of  Paris,  would  what  they  call  'register'  them! 
Such  right  of  registering,  properly  of  mere  writing  down,  the 
Pax-lement  has  got  by  old  wont ;  and,  though  but  a  Law- 
Courfc,  can  remonstrate,  and  higgle  considerably  about  the 
same.  Hence  many  quarrels  ;  desperate  Maupeou  devices, 
and  victory  and  defeat ; — a  quarrel  now  near  forty  years  long. 
Hence  fiscal  Edicts,  which  otherwise  were  easy  enough,  be- 
VOL.  I.— 0 


82  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

come  such  problems.  For  example,  is  there  not  Calonne's 
Subvention  Territoriale,  universal,  unexempting  Landtax  ;  the 
sheet-anchor  of  Finance  ?  Or,  to  show,  so  far  as  possible, 
that  one  is  not  without  original  finance-talent,  Lomenie  him- 
self can  devise  an  Edit  clu  Tivibre  or  Stamptax, — borrowed 
also,  it  is  true  ;  but  then  from  America  :  may  it  prove  luckier 
in  France  than  there  ! 

France  has  her  resom-ces  :  nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied, the  aspect  of  that  Parlement  in  questionable.  Already 
among  the  Notables,  is  that  final  symphony  of  dismissal,  the 
Paris  President  had  an  ominous  tone.  Adrien  Duport,  quit- 
ting magnetic  sleep,  in  this  agitation  of  the  world,  threatens 
to  rouse  himself  into  preternatural  wakefulness.  Shallower 
but  also  louder,  there  is  magnetic  d'Espremenil,  with  his 
tropical  heat  (he  was  born  at  Madras)  ;  with  his  dusky  con- 
fused violence  ;  holding  of  lUumiuation,  Animal  Magnetism, 
Pubhc  Opinion,  Adam  Weisshaupt,  Harmodius  and  Ai-istogi- 
ton,  and  all  manner  of  confused  violent  things  :  of  whom  can 
come  no  good.  The  very  Peerage  is  infected  with  the  leaven. 
Our  Peers  have,  in  too  many  cases,  laid  aside  their  frogs,  laces, 
bagwigs  ;  and  go  about  in  English  costume,  or  ride  rising  in 
their  stirrups, — in  the  most  headlong  manner  ;  nothing  but 
insubordination,  eleutheromania,  confused  unhmited  opposi- 
tion in  their  heads.  Questionable  :  not  to  be  ventured  upon, 
if  we  had  a  Fortunatus'  Purse  !  But  Lomenie  has  waited  all 
June,  casting  on  the  waters  what  oil  he  had  ;  and  now,  betide 
as  it  may,  the  two  Finance  Edicts  must  out.  On  the  6th  of 
July,  he  forwards  his  proposed  Stamptax  and  Landtax  to  the 
Parlement  of  Paris  :  and,  as  if  putting  his  own  leg  foremost, 
not  his  borrowed  Calonne's-leg,— places  the  Stamptax  first  in 
order, 

Alas,  the  Parlement  will  not  register  :  the  Parlement  de- 
mands instead  a  '  state  of  the  expenditure,'  a  '  state  of  the  con- 
templated reductions  ; '  '  states '  enough  ;  which  his  Majest>' 
must  dechne  to  furnish  !  Discussions  arise  ;  patriotic  elo- 
quence :  the  Peers  are  summoned.  Does  the  Nemean  Lion 
begin  to  bristle  ?  Here  surely  is  a  duel,  which  France  and 
the  Universe  may  look  upon  :  with  prayers ;  at  lowest,  with 


LOMi:NIE'S  EDICTS.  83 

curiosity  and  bets.  Paris  stirs  with  new  animation.  The 
outer  courts  of  the  Palais  de  Justice  roll  with  unusual  crowds, 
coming  and  going ;  their  huge  outer  hum  mingles  with  the 
clang  of  patriotic  eloquence  within,  and  gives  vigour  to  it. 
Poor  Lomenie  gazes  from  the  distance,  little  comforted  ;  has 
his  invisible  emissaries  flying  to  and  fro,  assiduous,  without 
result. 

So  pass  the  sultry  dog-days,  in  the  most  electric  manner  ; 
and  the  whole  month  of  July.  And  still,  in  the  Sanctuary  of 
Justice,  sounds  nothing  but  Harmodius-Ai'istogiton  eloquence, 
environed  with  the  hum  of  crowding  Paris  ;  and  no  register- 
ing accomplished,  and  no  '  states '  furnished,  "  States  ?  "  said 
a  lively  Parlementeer  :  "  Messieurs,  the  states  that  should  be 
furnished  us,  in  my  opinion  are  the  States-Geneeal."  On 
which  timely  joke  there  follow  cachinnatory  buzzes  of  ap- 
proval. What  a  word  to  be  sj)oken  in  the  Palais  de  Justice  ! 
Old  d'Ormesson  (the  Ex-Controller's  uncle)  shakes  his  judi- 
cious head  ;  far  enough  fi"om  laughing.  But  the  outer  courts, 
and  Paris  and  France,  catch  the  glad  sound,  and  repeat  it ; 
shall  repeat  it,  and  re-echo  and  reverberate  it,  till  it  grow  a 
deafening  peal.  Clearly  enough  here  is  no  registering  to  be 
thought  of. 

The  pious  Proverb  says,  '  there  are  remedies  for  all  things 
but  death.'  When  a  Parlement  refuses  registering,  the  rem- 
edy, by  long  practice,  has  become  familiar  to  the  simjjlest : 
a  Bed  of  Justice.  One  complete  month  this  Parlement  has 
spent  in  mere  idle  jargoning,  and  sound  and  fury  ;  the  Timbre 
Edict  not  registered,  or  like  to  be  ;  the  Subvention  not  yet  so 
much  as  spoken  of.  On  the  6th  of  August  let  the  whole  re- 
fractory Body  roll  out,  in  wheeled  vehicles,  as  far  as  the  King's 
Chateau  of  Versailles  ;  there  shall  the  King,  holding  his  Bed 
of  Justice,  order  them,  by  his  own  royal  li^Ds,  to  register.  They 
may  remonstrate  in  an  under  tone  ;  but  they  must  obey,  lest 
a  worse  unknown  thing  befal  them. 

It  is  done  :  the  Parlement  has  rolled  out,  on  royal  summons  ; 
has  heard  the  express  royal  order  to  register.  Wliereupon  it 
has  rolled  back  again,  amid  the  hushed  expectancy  of  men. 


84  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

And  now,  behold,  on  the  morrow,  this  Parlement,  seated  once 
more  in  its  own  Palais,  with  '  crowds  inundating  the  outer 
courts,'  not  only  does  not  registei-,  but  (O  portent !)  declares 
all  that  was  done  on  the  prior  day  to  be  null,  and  the  Bed  of 
Justice  as  good  as  a  futility  !  In  the  history  of  Fraiice  here 
verily  is  a  new  feature.  Nay  better  still,  our  heroic  Parlement, 
getting  suddenly  enlightened  on  several  things,  declares  that, 
for  its  part,  it  is  incompetent  to  register  Tax-edicts  at  all, — 
having  done  it  by  mistake,  during  these  late  centuries  ;  that 
for  such  act  one  authority  only  is  competent :  the  assembled 
Three  Estates  of  the  Realm. 

To  such  length  can  the  universal  spirit  of  a  Nation  penetrate 
the  most  isolated  Body-corporate  :  say  rather,  with  such  wea- 
pons, homicidal  and  suicidal,  in  exasperated  political  duel,  will 
Bodies- corporate  fight !  But,  in  any  case,  is  not  this  the  real 
death-grapple  of  war  and  internecine  duel,  Greek  meeting 
Greek  ;  whereon  men,  had  they  even  no  interest  in  it,  might 
look  with  interest  imspeakable  ?  Ci'o^ds,  as  was  said,  inundates, 
the  outer  courts  :  inundation  of  young  eleutheromaniac  No- 
blemen in  English  costume,  uttering  audacious  si^eeches  ;  of 
Procureurs,  Basoche-Clerks,  who  are  idle  in  these  days ;  of 
Loungei-s,  Newsmongers  and  other  nondescript  classes, — rolls 
tumultuous  there.  '  From  three  to  four  thousand  persons,' 
waiting  eagerly  to  hear  the  Arrtics  (Resolutions)  you  arrive  at 
within  ;  applauding  with  bravos,  with  the  clapping  of  from  six 
to  eight  thousand  hands  !  Sweet  also  is  the  meed  of  patriotic 
eloquence,  when  your  d'Espremenil,  your  Freteaia,  or  Sabatier, 
issuing  from  his  Demosthenic  Olympus,  the  thunder  being 
hushed  for  the  day,  is  welcomed,  in  the  outer  courts,  with  a 
shout  from  four  thousand  throats  ;  is  borne  home  shoulder- 
high  '  with  benedictions,'  and  strikes  the  stars  with  his  subHme 
head. 


LOMilNIE'S   THUXDERBOLTS.  85 


CHAPTER  V. 

lomenie's  thunderbolts. 

Arise,  Lomenie  Brienne  :  here  is  no  case  foi* '  Letters  of  Jus- 
slon  ; '  for  faltering  or  compromise.  Tliou  seest  the  whole 
loose  Jiuent  population  of  Paris  (whatsoever  is  not  solid  and ' 
fixed  to  work)  inundating  these  outer  coui'ts,  like  a  loud  de- 
structive deluge  ;  the  very  Basoche  of  Lawyers'  Clerks  talks 
sedition.  The  lower  classes,  in  this  duel  of  Authorit}^  with 
Authority,  Greek  thi'ottling  Greek,  have  ceased  to  respect  the 
City- Watch  :  Police-satellites  are  marked  on  the  back  with 
chalk  (the  m  signifies  mouchard,  spy) ;  they  are  hustled,  hunted 
like/(??\e  natune.  Subordinate  rural  Tribunals  send  messen- 
gers of  congratulation,  of  adherence.  Their  Fountain  of  Jus- 
tice is  becoming  a  Fountain  of  Revolt.  The  Provincial  Parle- 
ments  look  on,  with  intent  eye,  with  breathless  wishes,  while 
their  elder  sister  of  Paris  does  battle  ;  the  whole  Twelve  are  of 
one  blood  and  temper  ;  the  victory  of  one  is  that  of  all. 

Ever  worse  it  grows :  on  the  10th  of  August,  there  is 
' Flainte'  emitted  touching  the  'prodigalities  of  Calonne,'  and 
permission  to  '  proceed '  against  him.  No  registering,  but 
instead  of  it,  denouncing  :  of  dilapidation,  peculation  ;  and 
ever  the  burden  of  the  song,  States-General !  Have  the  royal 
armouries  no  thunderbolt,  that  thou  couldst,  O  Lomenie, 
with  red  right-hand,  launch  it  among  these  Demosthenic  the- 
atrical thunder-barrels,  mere  resin  and  noise  for  most  part ; — 
and  shatter,  and  smite  them  silent  ?  On  the  night  of  the  14th 
of  August,  Lomonie  launches  his  thunderbolt,  or  handful  of 
them.  Letters  named  of  the  Seal  (de  Cachet),  as  many  as 
needful,  some  six  score  and  odd,  are  delivered  over  night. 
And  so,  next  day  betimes,  the  whole  Parlement,  once  more 
set  on  wheels,  is  rolling  incessantly  towards  Troyes  in  Cham- 
pagne ;  '  escorted,'  says  History,  '  with  the  blessings  of  all 
l^eople  ; '  the  very  innkeepers  and  postilions  looking  gratui- 
tously reverent.*     Tiiis  is  the  15th  of  August,  1787. 

*  A.  Lametli :  Histoire  de  I'Assemblje  Constituante,  (Int.,  78.) 


86  THE  PARLEMEyr  OF  PARIS. 

"What  will  not  j^eople  bless  ;  in  tlieir  extreme  need  !  Sel- 
dom had  the  Pailement  of  Paris  deserved  much  blessing,  or 
received  much.  An  isolated  Body-corjjorate,  which,  out  of 
old  confusions  (while  the  Scepti-e  of  the  Sword  was  confusedly 
struggling  to  become  a  Sceptre  of  the  Pen),  had  got  itself  to- 
gether, better  and  worse,  as  Bodies-corporate  do,  to  satisfy 
some  dim  desire  of  the  world,  and  many  clear  desires  of  in- 
dividuals ;  and  so  had  grown,  in  the  coiu'se  of  centuries,  on 
concession,  on  acquirement  and  usui-pation,  to  be  what  we  see 
it :  a  prosperous  Social  Anomaly,  deciding  Lawsuits,  sanction- 
ing or  rejecting  Laws  ;  and  withal  disposing  of  its  places  and 
offices  b}'  sale  for  ready  money, — which  method  sleek  Presi- 
dent Henault,  after  meditation,  will  demonstrate  to  be  the 
indiflferent-best.  * 

In  such  a  Body,  existing  by  purchase  for  ready  money, 
there  could  not  be  excess  of  jjublic  spirit  ;  there  might  well 
be  excess  of  eagerness  to  divide  the  pubhc  spoil.  Men  in  hel- 
mets have  divided  that,  with  swords  ;  men  in  wigs,  with  quill 
and  inkhorn,  do  diAide  it :  and  even  more  hatefully  these 
latter,  if  more  peaceably  ;  for  the  wig-method  is  at  once  irre- 
sistibler  and  baser.  By  long  experience,  says  Besenval,  it  has 
been  found  useless  to  sue  a  Parlementeer  at  law  ;  no  Officer 
of  Justice  will  serve  a  writ  on  one  ;  his  wig  and  go^vn  are  his 
Vulcau's-panoply,  his  enchanted  cloak  of  darkness. 

The  Parlement  of  Paris  may  account  itself  an  unloved 
body ;  mean,  not  magnanimous,  on  the  political  side.  Were 
the  King  weak,  always  (as  now)  has  his  Parlement  barked, 
cur-like  at  his  heels  ;  with  what  popular  cry  there  might  be. 
Were  he  strong,  it  barked  before  his  face ;  hunting  for  him 
as  his  alert  beagle.  An  unjust  Body  ;  where  foul  influences 
have  more  than  once  worked  shameful  perversion  of  judg- 
ment. Does  not,  in  these  very  days,  the  blood  of  murdered 
Lally  cry  aloud  for  vengeance  ?  Baited,  circumvented,  driven 
mad  like  the  snared  lion.  Valour  had  to  sink  extinguished  un- 
der vindictive  Chicane.  Behold  him,  that  hapless  Lally,  his 
wild  dark  soul  looking  through  his  ^^ild  dark  face  ;  trailed  on 
the  ignominious  death-hurdle  ;  the  voice  of  his  despair 
*  Abrogc'  CLrouologiii'ae,  p.  975. 


LOM^NIE'S  THUNDERBOLTS.  S7 

choked  by  a  wooden  gag  !  The  wild  fire-soul  that  has  known 
only  peril  and  toil ;  and,  for  threescore  years,  has  buffeted 
against  Fate's  obstruction  and  men's  perfidy,  like  genius  and 
courage  amid  poltroonery,  dishonesty,  and  common-place  ; 
faithfully  enduring  and  endeavouring, — O  Parlement  of  Paris, 
dost  thou  reward  it  with  a  gibbet  and  a  gag  ?  *  The  d_)'ing 
Lally  bequeathed  his  memory  to  his  boy  ;  a  young  Lnlly  has 
arisen,  demanding  redress  in  the  name  of  God  and  man. 
The  Parlement  of  Paris  does  its  utmost  to  defend  the  inde- 
fensible, abominable  ;  nay,  what  is  singular,  dusky-glowing 
Aristogiton  d'Espremenil  is  the  man  chosen  to  be  its  spokes- 
man in  that. 

Such  Social  Anomaly  is  it  that  France  now  blesses.  An 
unclean  Social  Anomaly  ;  but  in  duel  against  another  worse  ! 
The  exiled  Parlement  is  felt  to  have  '  covered  itself  Avith 
glor^'.'  There  are  quarrels  in  which  even  Satan,  bringing 
help,  were  not  unwelcome  ;  even  Satan,  fighting  stiffly,  might 
cover  himself  with  glory, — of  a  temporary  sort. 

But  what  a  stir  in  the  outer  courts  of  the  Palais,  when  Paris 
finds  its  Parlement  trundled  off  to  Troyes  in  Champagne  ;  and 
nothing  left  but  a  few  mute  Keejjers  of  Eecords  ;  the  Demos- 
thenic thunder  become  extinct,  the  mart^-rs  of  liberty  clean 
gone  !  Confused  wail  and  menace  rises  from  the  four  thou- 
sand throats  of  Procureurs,  Basoche-Clerks,  Nondescript,  and 
Anglomaniac  Noblesse  ;  ever  new  idlers  crowd  to  see  and  hear ; 
Rascality,  with  increasing  numbers  and  vigour,  hunts  mou- 
chards.  Loud  whirlpool  rolls  through'  these  spaces  ;  the  rest 
of  the  City,  fixed  to  its  work,  cannot  yet  go  rolling.  Auda- 
cious placards  are  legible  ;  in  and  about  the  Palais,  the  sps^.-hes 
are  as  good  us  seditious.  Sui-ely  the  temper  of  Paris  is  r'njli 
changed.  On  the  third  day  of  this  business  (18th  of  August), 
Monsieur  and  Monseigneur  d'Artois,  coming  in  state-carriages, 
according  to  use  and  wont,  to  have  these  late  obnoxious  Ai-- 
Tcles  and  Protests  '  expunged '  from  the  Eecords,  are  received 
in  the  most  marked  manner.  Monsieur,  who  is  thought  to 
be  in  opposition,  is  met  with  vivats  and  strewed  flowers  : 
Monseigneur,  on  the  other  hand,  with  silence,  with  murmiir^ 
*9tli  May,  17G(3 :  Biograpliie  Universelle,  §  Lally. 


S8  THE  PARLEMEXT  OF  PAIilS. 

wliicli  rise  to  hisses  and  groaus  ;  nay  an  irreverent  Kascality 
presses  towards  liim  in  floods,  with  such  hissing  vehemence, 
that  the  Captain  of  the  Guards  has  to  give  order,  "  Ilaut  les 
ainies  (Handle  arms)  !  " — at  which  thunder-word,  indeed,  and 
the  flash  of  the  clear  iron,  the  Eascal-flood  recoils,  through  all 
avenvies,  fast  enough.*  New  features  these.  Indeed,  ae  good 
INI.  de  Malesherbes  pertinently  remarks,  "  it  is  a  quite  new 
kind  of  contest  this  with  the  Parlement :  "  no  transitory  sput- 
ter, as  from  collision  of  hard  bodies  ;  but  more  like  "  the  first 
sparks  of  what,  if  not  quenched,  may  become  a  great  confla- 
gration." f 

This  good  Malesherbes  sees  himself  now  again  in  the  King's 
Council,  after  an  absence  of  ten  years  ;  Lomenie  would  profit, 
if  not  by  the  faculties  of  the  man,  yet  by  the  name  he  has.  As 
for  the  man's  opinion,  it  is  not  listened  to  ; — wherefore  he 
will  soon  withdraw,  a  second  time  ;  back  to  his  books  and  his 
trees.  In  such  King's  Council  what  can  a  good  man  jDrofit  ? 
Turgot  tries  it  not  a  second  time  :  Turgot  has  quitted  France 
and  this  Earth,  some  j'ears  ago  ;  and  now  cares  for  none  of 
these  things.  Singular  enough  :  Turgot,  this  same  Lomenie, 
and  the  Abbu  Morellet  were  once  a  trio  of  young  friends  ;  fel- 
low-scholars in  the  Sorbonne.  Forty  new  years  have  carried 
them  severally  thus  far. 

Meanwhile,  the  Parlement  sits  daily  at  Troyes,  calling  cases ; 
and  daily  adjourns,  no  Procureur  making  his  appearance  to 
plead.  Troyes  is  as  hospitable  as  could  be  looked  for  :  never- 
theless one  has  comparatively  a  dull  life.  No  crowds  now  to 
carry  you,  shoulder-high,  to  the  immortal  gods  ;  scarcely  a 
Patriot  or  two  will  drive  out  so  far,  and  bid  you  be  of  firm 
courage.  You  are  in  furnished  lodgings,  far  from  home  and 
domestic  comfort :  little  to  do,  but  wander  over  the  unlovely 
Champagne  fields  ;  seeing  the  grapes  ripen  ;  taking  counsel 
about  the  thousand-times  consulted  :  a  pi-ey  to  tedium  ;  in 
dauger  even  that  Paris  may  forget  you.  Messengers  come  and 
go :  pacific  Lomenie  is  not  slack  in  negotiating,  promising  ; 
d'Ormesson  and  the  prudent  elder  Members  see  no  good  in 
strife. 

*  Montgaillard,  i.  3G0.— Besenval,  &c.  f  ^If^^tgaillard,  i.  373, 


LOMENIE'8  PLOTS.  89 

After  a  dull  mouth,  the  Parlement,  yieldiug  and  retaining, 
makes  tvuce,  as  all  Parlements  must.  The  Stamptax  is  with- 
drawn :  the  Suhveiition  Landtax  is  also  withdrawn  ;  "but,  in  its 
stead,  there  is  granted,  what  they  caU  a  '  Prorogation  of  the 
Second  Twentieth,' — itself  a  kind  of  Landtax,  but  not  so  op- 
pressive to  the  Influential  classes  ;  which  lies  mainly  on  the 
Dumb  class.  Moreover,  secret  promises  exist  (on  the  part  of 
the  Elders),  that  finances  may  be  raised  by  Loan.  Of  the  ugly 
word  States-General  there  shall  be  no  mention. 

And  so,  on  the  20th  of  September,  our  exiled  Parlement  re- 
turns. d'Espremenil  said,  '  it  went  out  covered  mth  glory,  but 
'has  come  back  covered  with  mud  {de  houe).'  Not  so,  Aris- 
togiton  ;  or  if  so,  thou  surely  art  the  man  to  clean  it. 


CHAPTEK  VI. 


LOMENIE    S     PLOTS, 


Was  ever  imfortunate  Chief  Minister  so  bested  as  Lomenie 
Brienne?  The  reins  of  the  State  fairly  in  his  hand  these  six 
months  ;  and  not  the  smallest  motive-power  (of  Finance)  to 
stir  from  the  spot  with,  this  way  or  that !  He  flourishes  his 
whip,  but  advances  not.  Instead  of  ready  money,  there  is 
nothing  but  rebellious  debating  and  recalcitrating. 

Far  is  the  public  mind  from  having  calmed  ;  it  goes  chafing 
and  fuming  ever  worse  :  and  in  the  royal  coffers,  -svith  such 
yearly  Deficit  running  on,  there  is  hardly  the  colour  of  coin. 
Ominous  prognostics !  Malesherbes,  seeing  an  exhausted, 
exasperated  France  grow  hotter  and  hotter,  talks  of  *  con- 
flagration : '  Mirabeau,  without  talk,  has,  as  we  perceive,  de- 
scended on  Paris  again,  close  on  the  rear  of  the  Parlement,* 
— not  to  quit  his  native  soil  any  more. 

Over  the  Frontiers,  behold  Holland  invaded  by  Prussia  ;  f 

*  Fils  Adoptif :   Mirabeau.  iv    1.  5. 

t  October,  1787.     Montgaillard,  i.  374.— Besenval,  iii.  283. 


00  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

the  French  party  oppressed,  England  and  the  Stadtholder 
triumphing  :  to  the  soitow  of  War-secretary  Montmorin  and 
all  men.  But  without  money,  sinews  of  war,  as  of  work,  and 
of  existence  itself,  what  can  a  Chief  jMinister  do?  Taxes 
profit  little  :  this  of  the  Second  Twentieth  falls  not  due  till 
next  year  ;  and  will  then,  with  its  '  strict  valuation,'  produce 
more  controversy  than  cash.  Taxes  on  the  Privileged  Classes 
cannot  be  got  registered  :  are  intolerable  to  our  supporters 
themselves;  taxes  on  the  Unpri\dleged  yield  nothing,— as 
from  a  thing  drained  dry  more  cannot  be  drawn.  Hope  is 
nowhere,  if  not  in  the  old  refuge  of  Loans. 

To  Lomenie,  aided  by  the  long  head  of  Lamoignon,  deeply 
pondering  this  sea  of  troubles,  the  thought  suggested  itself : 
Why  not  have  a  Successive  Loan  [Emprunt  Successif),  or  Loan 
that  went  on  lending,  year  after  year,  as  much  as  needful ; 
say,  till  1792  ?  The  trouble  of  registering  such  a  Loan  were 
the  same  :  we  had  then  breathing  time  ;  money  to  work  with, 
at  least  to  subsist  on.  Edict  of  a  Successive  Loan  must  be 
proposed.  To  conciliate  the  Philosophes,  let  a  liberal  Edict 
walk  in  front  of  it,  for  emancipation  of  Protestants  ;  let  a 
liberal  Promise  guard  the  rear  of  it,  that  when  our  Loan  ends, 
in  that  final  1792,  the  States-General  shall  be  convoked. 

Such  liberal  Edict  of  Protestant  Emancipation,  the  time 
having  come  for  it,  shall  cost  a  Lomenie  as  little  as  the  '  Death- 
penalties  to  be  put  in  execution'  did.  As  for  the  liberal 
Promise,  of  States-General,  it  can  be  fulfilled  or  not  :  the  ful- 
filment is  five  good  years  off ;  in  five  years  much  intervenes. 
But  the  registering  ?  Ah,  truly,  there  is  the  difficulty ! — 
However,  we  have  that  promise  of  the  Eiders,  given  secretly 
at  Troyes.  Judicious  gratuities,  cajoleries,  underground  in- 
trigues ;  with  old  Foulou,  named  'Ame  damnee.  Familiar- 
demon,  of  the  Parlement,'  may  perhaps  do  the  rest.  At  worst 
and  lowest,  the  Royal  Authority  has  resoui-ces, — which  ought 
it  not  to  put  forth  ?  If  it  cannot  realize  money  the  Eoyal 
Authority  is  as  good  as  dead  ;  dead  of  that  surest  and 
miserablest  death,  inanition.  Risk  and  win  ;  without  risk  all 
is  already  lost !  For  the  rest,  as  in  enterprises  of  pith,  a 
touch  of  stratagem  often  proves  furthersome,  his  Majesty  an- 


LOMENIE'S  PLOTS.  91 

nounees  A  Royal  Hunt,  for  the  19tb  of  November  next ;  and 
all  whom  it  concerns  are  joyfully  getting  their  gear  ready. 

Royal  Hunt  indeed  ;  but  of  two-legged  unfeathered  game  ! 
At  eleven  in  the  morning  of  that  Royal  Hunt  da}',  19th  of 
November,  1787,  unexpected  blare  of  trumpeting,  tumult  of 
<3harioteering  and  cavalcading  disturbs  the  Seat  of  Justice  : 
]jis  Majesty  is  come,  with  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon,  and 
Peers  and  retinue,  to  hold  Royal  Session  and  have  Edicts 
registered.  What  a  change  since  Louis  XIV.  entered  here,  in 
boots  ;  and,  whip  in  hand,  ordered  his  registering  to  be  done, 
— with  an  Olympian  look,  which  none  durst  gainsay  ;  and  did, 
without  stratagem,  in  such  unceremonious  fashion,  hunt  as 
well  as  register  !  ^-  For  Louis  XVI.,  on  this  day,  the  Register- 
ing will  be  enough  :  if  indeed  he  and  the  day  sufl&ce  for  it. 

Meanwhile,  with  fit  ceremonial  words,  the  purpose  of  the 
royal  breast  is  signified  : — Two  Edicts,  for  Protestant  Eman- 
cipation, for  Successive  Loan :  of  both  which  Edicts  our 
trusty  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon  wiU  explain  the  purport ; 
on  both  which  a  trusty  Parlement  is  requested  to  deHver  its 
opinion,  each  member  having  free  privilege  of  speech.  And 
so,  Lamoignon  too  having  perorated  not  amiss,  and  wound  up 
with  that  Promise  of  States-General, — the  Sphere-music  of 
Parlementary  eloquence  begins.  Explosive,  responsive,  sphere 
answering  sphere,  it  waxes  louder  and  louder.  The  Peers  sit 
attentive  ;  of  diverse  sentiment :  unfriendly  to  States-General ; 
unfriendly  to  Despotism,  which  cannot  reward  merit,  and  is 
suppressing  places.  But  what  agitates  his  Highness  d'Or- 
leans  ?  The  rubicund  moon-head  goes  wagging ;  darker 
beams  the  copper  visage,  like  imscoured  coj)per  ;  in  the  glazed 
eye  is  disquietude  ;  he  rolls  uneasy  in  his  seat,  as  if  he  meant 
something.  Amid  unutterable  satiety,  has  sudden  new  appe- 
tite, for  new  forbidden  fruit,  been  vouchsafed  him  ?  Disgust 
and  edacity  ;  laziness  that  cannot  rest  ;  futile  ambition,  re- 
venge, non-ad  miralship  : — O,  within  that  carbuncled  skin, 
what  a  confusion  of  confusions  sits  bottled  ! 

'Eight  Couriers,'  in  the  course  of  the  day,  gallop  from  Ver- 
*  Dulaure,  vi.  306. 


92  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

sailles,  where  Lomenie  waits  palpitating  ;  and  gallop  back 
again,  not  with  the  best  news.  In  the  outer  Courts  of  the 
Palais,  huge  buzz  of  expectation  reigns  ;  it  is  whispered  the 
Chief  Minister  has  lost  six  votes  over  night.  And  from  with- 
in, resounds  nothing  but  forensic  eloquence,  pathetic  and  even 
indignant ;  heart-rending  aj)peals  to  the  royal  clemency,  that 
his  Majesty  would  please  to  summon  States-General  forth- 
with, and  be  the  Saviour  of  France  : — wherein  dusky-glowing 
d'Espremenil,  but  still  more  Sabatier  de  Cabre,  and  Freteau, 
since  named  Comviere  Freteau  ^Goody  Freteau),  are  among 
the  loudest.  For  six  mortal  hours  it  lasts,  in  this  manner ; 
the  infinite  hubbub  unslackened. 

And  so  now,  when  brown  dusk  is  falling  through  the  win- 
dows and  no  end  visible,  His  Majesty,  on  hint  of  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  Lamoignon,  oi:)ens  his  royal  iijDS  once  more  to  say,  iil 
brief,  That  he  must  have  his  Loan-Edict  registered. — Mo- 
mentary deep  j^ause  ! — See  !  Monseigneur  d'Orleans  rises  ; 
Avith  moon-visage  turned  towards  the  royal  platform,  he  asks, 
Avith  a  delicate  graciosit^'^  of  manner  covering  unutterable 
things :  "  Whether  it  is  a  Bed  of  Justice,  then,  or  a  Royal 
Session  ?  "  Fire  flashes  on  him  from  the  throne  and  neigh- 
borhood :  surly  answer  that  "it  is  a  Session."  In  that  case, 
Monseigneur  will  crave  leave  to  remark  that  Edicts  cannot  be 
registered  by  order  in  a  Session  ;  and  indeed  to  enter,  against 
such  registr}^  his  individual  humble  Protest.  "  Vous  ttes  hien 
le  mallre  (You  will  do  your  pleasui-e),"  answers  the  King  ;  and 
thereupon,  in  high  state,  marches  out,  escorted  by  his  Court- 
retinue  ;  d'Orleans  himself,  as  in  duty  bound,  escorting  him, 
but  only  to  the  gate.  Which  duty  done  d'Orleans  returns  in 
from  the  gate  ;  redacts  his  Protest,  in  the  face  of  an  applaud- 
ing Parlement,  an  applauding  France  ;  and  so — has  cut  his 
Court-moorings,  shall  Ave  say?  And  Avill  now  sail  and  drift, 
fast  enough,  towards  Chaos  ? 

Thou  foolish  d'Orleans ;  Equality  that  art  to  be  !  Is  Eoy- 
alty  groAvn  a  mere  Avooden  Scarecrow  ;  Avhereon  thou  pert 
scaldheaded  crow,  mayest  alight  at  pleasure,  and  peck  ?  Not 
yet  Avholly. 


lOMf.NIE'S  PLOTS.  03 

Next  day,  a  Lettre-de-Cachet  sends  d'Orleans  to  bethink 
himself  in  his  Chateau  of  Villers-Cotterets,  where,  alas,  is  no 
Paris  with  its  joyous  necessaries  of  life  ;  no  fascinating  indis- 
pensable Madame  de  Buifon, — light  wife  of  a  great  Naturalist 
much  too  old  for  her.  Monseigneur,  it  is  said,  does  nothing 
but  walk  distractedly,  at  Villers-Cotterets  ;  cursing  his  stars. 
Versailles  itself  shall  hear  penitent  wail  from  him,  so  hard  is 
his  doom.  By  a  second,  simultaneous  Lettre-de-Cachet, 
Goody  Freteau  is  hurled  into  the  Stronghold  of  Ham,  amid 
the  Norman  marshes  ;  by  a  third,  Sabatier  de  Cabre  into 
Mont  St.  Michel,  amid  the  Norman  quicksands.  As  for  the 
Parlement,  it  must,  on  summons,  travel  out  to  Versailles,  with 
its  Register-Book  under  its  arm,  to  have  the  Protest  hiffii  (ex- 
punged) ;  not  without  admonition,  and  even  rebuke.  A 
stroke  of  authority,  which,  one  might  have  hoped,  would 
quiet  matters. 

Unhappily,  no:  it.  is  a  mere  taste  of  the  whip  to  rearing 
coursers,  which  makes  them  rear  Avorse  !  When  a  team  of 
Twenty-five  Millions  begins  rearing,  what  is  Lomenie's  whip  ? 
The  Parlement  wiU  nowise  acquiesce  meekly  ;  and  set  to  reg- 
ister the  Protestant  Edict,  and  do  its  other  work,  in  salutary 
fear  of  these  three  Lettres-de-Cachet.  For  from  that,  it  be- 
gins questioning  Lettres-de  Cachet  generally,  their  legality, 
endurabihty  ;  emits  dolorous  objurgation,  petition  on  petition 
to  have  its  three  Martyi-s  delivered  ;  cannot,  till  that  be  com- 
plied with,  so  much  as  think  of  examining  the  Protestant 
Edict,  but  puts  it  off  always  'till  this  day  week.'* 

In  which  objurgatory  strain  Paris  and  France  joins  it,  or 
rather  has  preceded  it ;  making  feai'ful  chorus.  And  now 
also  the  other  Parlements,  at  length  opening  their  mouths, 
begin  to  join  ;  some  of  them,  as  at  Grenoble  and  at  Rennes, 
with  portentous  emphasis, — threatening  by  way  of  reprisal,  to 
interdict  the  very  Tax-gatherer. f  "In  all  former  contests," 
as  Malesherbes  remarks,  "  it  was  the  Parlement  that  excited 
the  Public  ;  but  "  here  it  is  the  Public  that  excites  the  Parle- 
"  meut." 

*  Besenval,  iii.  309.  t  Weber,  i.  2GG. 


94  THE  PARLEMKUfT  OF  PARIii. 

chapter'  ytl 

INTERNECINE. 

What  a  France,  through  these  winter  months  of  the  year 
1787  the  very  CEil-de-Boeuf  is  doleful,  uncertain  ;  with  a  gen- 
eral feehng,  among  the  suppressed,  that  it  were  better  to  be 
in  Turke}'.  The  Wolf-hounds  are  suppressed,  the  Bear- 
hounds  ;  Duke  de  Coigny,  Duke  de  Poliguac  :  in  the  Trianon 
little-heaven,  her  Majesty,  one  evening,  takes  Besenval's  arm  ; 
asks  his  candid  opinion.  The  intrepid  Besenval  (having,  as 
he  hopes,  nothing  of  the  sycophant  in  him)  plainly  signifies 
that  with  a  Parlement  in  rebellion,  and  an  CEil-de-Boeuf  in 
suppression,  the  King's  Crown  is  in  Danger  ; — whereupon, 
singular  to  say,  her  Majesty,  as  if  hurt,  changed  the  subject, 
et  ne  me  jMiia  plus  de  rien  !  * 

To  whom,  indeed,  can  this  poor  Queen  speak  !  In  need  of 
wise  counsel,  if  ever  mortal  was,  yet  beset  here  only  by  the 
hubbub  of  chaos  !  Her  dwelling-place  is  so  bright  to  the  eye, 
and  confusion  and  black  care  darkens  it  all.  Sorrows  of  the 
Sovereign,  sorrows  of  the  woman,  thick-coming  sorrows  envi- 
ron her  more  and  more.  Lamotte,  the  Necklace-Countess, 
has  in  these  late  months,  escaped,  perhaps  been  suffered  to 
escape,  from  the  Salpetriere.  Vain  was  the  hope  that  Paris 
might  thereby  forget  her  ;  and  this  ever-widening  lie,  and 
heap  of  lies,  subside.  The  Lamotte,  with  a  V  (for  Yoleuse, 
Thief)  branded  on  both  shoulders,  has  got  to  England  ;  and 
Avill  therefore  emit  lie  on  lie  ;  defiling  the  highest  queenly 
name  :  mere  distracted  lies  :  f  which,  in  its  present  humour, 
France  Avill  gi'ecdily  believe. 

For  the  rest,  it  is  too  clear  our  Successive  Loan  is  not  fill- 
ing. As  indeed,  in  such  circumstances,  a  Loan  registered  by 
exj)angiug  of  Protests  was  not  the  likeliest  to  fill.     Denuncia- 

*  Besenval,  iii.  264. 

f  MOmoires  justificatiis  de  la  Comtesse  de  Lamotte  (London,  1788). — 
Vie  de  Jeanne  de  St.  Remi  Comtesse  de  Lamotte,  &c.  &c.  — See  Dia- 
mond Necklace  {>it  supra). 


INTERNECINE.  95 

fcion  of  Let tres -de- Cachet,  of  Daspotism  generally,  abates  not  : 
the  Twelve  Parlements  are  busy  ;  the  Twelve  hundred  Pla- 
carders,  Balladsingers,  Pamphleteers.  Paris  is  what,  in  figura- 
tive speech,  they  call  'flooded  with  pamphlets  {regorge  de 
brochures)  ;'  flooded  and  eddying  again.  Hot  deluge, — from 
so  many  patriot  ready- writers,  all  at  the  fervid  or  boiling- 
point  ;  each  ready-writer,  now  in  the  hour  of  eruption,  going 
like  an  Iceland  Geyser  !  Against  which  what  can  a  judicious 
Friend  Morellet  do  ;  a  Rivarol,  an  unruly  Linguet  (well  paid 
for  it),  spouting  cold  ! 

Now  also,  at  length,  does  come  discussion  of  the  Protestant 
Edict :  but  only  for  new  embroilment  ;  in  pamphlet  and 
counter-pamphlet,  increasing  the  madness  of  men.  Not  even 
Orthodoxy,  bedrid  as  she  seemed,  but  will  have  a  hand  in  the 
confusion.  She  once  again  in  the  shape  of  Abbe  Le  Enfant, 
'  whom  Pi-elates  drive  to  visit  and  congratulate,' — raises  audi- 
ble sound  from  her  pulj^it-drum.*  Or  mark  how  d'Espreme- 
nil,  who  has  his  own  confused  way  in  all  things,  produces  at 
the  right  moment  in  Parlementary  harangue,  a  pocket  Cruci- 
fix, with  the  apostrophe:  "WiU  ye  crucify  him  afresh?" 
Him,  O  d'Espremenil,  without  scruple  ;  considering  what  poor 
stuff,  of  ivory  and  filigree,  he  is  made  of ! 

To  all  which  add  only  that  poor  Brienne  has  fallen  sick  ; 
so  hard  was  the  tear  and  wear  of  his  sinful  youth,  so  violent, 
incessant  is  this  agitation  of  his  foolish  old  age.  Baited, 
bayed  at  through  so  many  throats,  his  Grace,  growing  con- 
sumptive, inflammatory  (with  humeur  de  dartre),  lies  reduced 
to  millc  diet ;  in  exasperation,  almost  in  desperation  ;  with  '  re- 
pose,' precisely  the  impossible  recipe,  prescribed  as  the  indis- 
pensable, f 

On  the  whole,  what  can  a  poor  Government  do,  but  once 
more  recoil  ineffectual  ?  The  King's  Treasury  is  running  to- 
wards the  lees  ;  and  Paris  '  eddies  with  a  flood  of  pamphlets.' 
At  all  rates,  let  the  latter  subside  a  little  !  D'Orleans  geta 
back  to  Raincy,  which  is  nearer  Paris  and  the  fair  frail  Buffon ; 
finally  to  Paris  itself  :  neither  are  Freteau  and  Sabatier  ban- 
ished  forever.     The  Protestant  Edict  is  registered  ;  to  the 

*  Lacretelle,  iii.  343.     Montgaillard,  &c.  fEeseiival,  iii.  317. 


96  THE  PARLEMENT   OF  PAEIS. 

joy  of  Boissy  d'Angks  and  good  Malesherbes  :  Successive 
Loan,  all  iDrotests  expunged  ox'  else  withdrawn,  remains  open, 
— the  rather  as  few  or  none  come  to  fill  it.  States-General,  for 
which  the  Parlement  has  clamoured,  and  now  the  whole  na- 
tion clamours,  will  follow  '  in  five  years,' — if  indeed  not 
sooner.  O  Parlement  of  Paris,  what  a  clamour  was  that ! 
"Messieurs,"  said  old  d'Ormesson,  "you  will  get  States- 
General,  and  you  will  repent  it."  Like  the  Horse,  in  the 
Fable,  who,  to  be  avenged  of  his  enemy,  applied  to  the  Man. 
The  man  mounted  ;  did  swift  execution  on  the  enemy  ;  but, 
unhappily,  would  not  dismount !  Instead  of  five  years,  let 
three  years  pass,  and  this  clamorous  Parlement  shall  have 
both  seen  its  enemy  hurled  j^rostrate  ;  and  been  itself  ridden 
to  foundering  (say  rather,  jugulated  for  hide  and  shoes),  and 
lie  dead  in  the  ditch. 

Under  such  omens,  however,  we  have  reached  the  spring  of 
1788.  By  no  path  can  the  King's  Government  find  j^assage 
for  itself,  but  is  every  where  shamefully  flung  back.  Be- 
leaguered by  Twelve  rebellious  Parlements,  which  are  grown 
to  be  the  organs  of  an  angry  Nation,  it  can  advance  no- 
whither ;  can  accomplish  nothing,  obtain  nothing,  not  so 
much  as  money  to  subsist  on  ;  but  must  sit  there,  seeminglj', 
to  be  eaten  up  of  Deficit. 

The  measure  of  the  Liiquity,  then,  of  the  Falsehood  which 
has  been  gathering  through  long  centuries,  is  nearly  full  ? 
At  least,  that  of  the  Misery  is  !  From  the  hovels  of  the 
Twenty-five  Millions,  the  misery,  permeating  ujDwards  and 
forwards,  as  its  law  is,  has  got  so  far, — to  the  very  (Eil-de- 
Bceuf  of  Versailles.  Man's  hand,  in  this  blind  pain,  is  set 
against  man :  not  only  the  low  against  the  higher,  but  the 
higher  against  each  other ;  Provincial  Noblesse  is  bitter 
against  Court  Nol^lesse ;  Eobe  against  Sword ;  Rochet  against 
Pen.  But  against  the  King's  Government  who  is  iiot  bitter  ? 
Not  even  Besenval,  in  these  days.  To  it  all  men  and  bodies 
of  men  are  become  as  enemies  ;  it  is  the  centre  whereon  in- 
finite contentions  unite  and  clash.  What  new  universal  verti- 
ginous movement  is  this  ;  of  Institutious,  social  Arrange- 
ments, individual  Minds,  which  once  worked  co-operative,  no\v 


ly  TEE  yE  CINE.  97 

rolliug  and  grinding  in  distracted  collision  ?  Inevitable  :  it 
is  the  breaking  np  of  a  World-Solecism,  worn  out  at  last, 
down  even  to  bankruptcy  of  money  !  And  so  this  poor  Ver- 
sailles Com-t,  as  the  chief  or  central  Solecism,  finds  all  tho 
other  Solecisms  arrayed  against  it.  Most  natural !  For  your 
human  Solecism,  be  it  Person  or  Combination  of  Pei'sons,  is 
ever,  by  law  of  Nature,  uneasy  ;  if  verging  towards  bank- 
ruptcy, it  is  even  miserable  : — and  when  would  the  meanest 
Solecism  consent  to  blame  or  amend  ilseJf,  while  there  re- 
mained another  to  amend? 

These  threatening  signs  do  not  terrify  Lomenie,  much  less 
teach  him.  Lomenie,  though  of  light  nature,  is  not  without 
courage,  of  a  sort.  Nay,  have  we  not  read  of  lightest  crea- 
tures, trained  Canaiy-birds,  that  could  fly  cheerfully  with 
lighted  matches,  and  fire  cannon ;  fire  whole  powder-maga- 
zines ?  To  sit  and  die  of  Deficit  is  no  i^art  of  Lomenie's  plan. 
The  evil  is  considerable  ;  but  can  he  not  remove  it,  can  he  not 
attack  it  ?  At  lowest,  he  can  attack  the  symptoin  of  it :  these 
rebellious  Parlements  he  can  attack,  and  perhaps  remove. 
Much  is  dim  to  Lomenie,  but  two  things  are  clear  :  that 
such  Parlementary  duel  with  Royalty  is  gi-owing  perilous, 
nay  internecine  ;  above  all,  that  money  must  be  had.  Take 
thought,  brave  Lomenie  ;  thou  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoig- 
non,  who  hast  ideas !  So  often  defeated,  balked  cruelly  Avhen 
the  golden  fruit  seemed  within  clutch,  rally  for  one  other 
struggle.  To  tame  the  Parlement  to  fill  the  King's  coffers  ; 
these  are  now  life-and-death  questions. 

Parlements  have  been  tamed,  more  than  once.  Set  to 
perch  '  on  the  peaks  of  rocks  inaccessible  except  by  litters,'  a 
Parlemen.t  grows  reasonable.  O  Maupeou,  thou  bold  bad 
man,  had  we  left  thy  work  where  it  was ! — But  apart  from 
exile,  or  other  violent  methods,  is  there  not  one  method, 
whereby  all  things  are  tamed,  even  lions  ?  The  method  of 
hunger!  What  if  the  Parlements  supphes  were  cut  ofif; 
namely,  its  Lawsuits ! 

Minor  Courts,  for  the  trying  of  innumerable  minor  causes, 
might  be  instituted  :  these  wo  could  call  Grand  BaUliages. 
Whereon  the  Parlement  shortened  of  its  prey,  would  look 
Vol.  I. -7 


98  THE  rARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

■with  yellow  despair  ;  but  the  Public,  fond  of  cheap  justice, 
with  favour  and  hope.  Then  for  Finance,  for  registering  of 
Edicts,  why  not,  from  our  own  (Eil-de-Boeuf  Dignitaries,  our 
Princes,  Dukes,  Marshals,  make  a  thing  we  could  call  Plenary 
Court ;  and  there,  so  to  speak,  do  our  registering  ourselves  ? 
Saint  Louis  had  his  Plenary  Coui't,  of  Great  Barons  ;  *  most 
useful  to  him  ;  our  Great  Barons  ai-e  still  here  (at  least,  the 
Name  of  them  is  still  here)  ;  our  necessity  is  greater  than  his. 

Such  is  the  Lomenie-Lamoignon  device  ;  welcome  to  the 
King's  Council,  as  a  light-beam  in  great  dai-kness.  The 
device  seems  feasible,  it  is  eminently  needful  ;  be  it  once  well 
executed,  great  deliverance  is  wrought.  Silent,  then,  and 
steady ;  now  or  never ! — the  World  shall  see  one  other 
Historical  Scene ;  and  so  singular  a  man  as  Lomenie  de 
Brienne  still  the  Stage-manager  there. 

Behold,  accordingly,  a  Home-Secretary  Breteuil  '  beautif}'- 
ing  Paris,'  in  the  peaceablest  manner,  in  this  hopeful  spring 
weather -of  1788;  the  old  hovels  and  hutches  disapi^earing 
from  our  Bridges  :  as  if  for  the  State  too  there  were  halcyon 
weather,  and  nothing  to  do  but  beautify.  Parlemen'  seems 
to  sit  acknowledged  victor.  Brienne  says  nothing  of  I  inance  ; 
or  even  says,  and  prints,  that  it  is  all  well.  How  is  this  ;  such 
halcyon  quiet  ;  though  the  Successive  Loan  did  not  iill  ?  In 
a  victorious  Parlement,  Counsellor  Goeslard  de  Monsabert 
even  denounces  that  'levying  of  the  Second  Twentieth  on 
strict  valuation  ; '  and  gets  decree  that  the  valuation  shall  not 
be  strict, — not  on  the  Privileged  classes.  Nevertheless, 
Brienne  endures  it,  launches  no  Lettre-de-Cachet  against  it. 
How  is  this  ? 

Smiling  in  such  vernal  weather  ;  but  treacherous,  sudden  ! 
For  one  thing  we  hear  it  whispered,  '  the  Inteudants  of 
'  Provinces  have  all  got  order,  to  be  at  their  post  on  a  certain 
'  day.'  Still  more  singular,  what  incessant  Printing  is  this  that 
goes  on  at  the  King's  Chateau,  under  lock  and  key  ?  Sentries 
occupy  all  gates  and  windows;  the  printers  come-  not  out, 
they  sleep  in  theu'  work  rooms;  their  very  food  is  handed 
in  to  them !  f  A  ^-ictorious  Parlement  smells  ne>/  danger. 
*  Moiitgaillard,  i.  405.  t  Weber,  i    276. 


LOMENIE'S  DEATH-TimOES.  09 

D'Espremenil  has  ordered  liorses  to  Versailles  ;  prowls  round 
that  guarded  Priutiug- Office  ;  prying,  snuffing,  if  so  be  the 
sagacity  and  ingenuity  of  man  may  penetrate  it. 

To  a  shower  of  gold  most  things  are  penetrable.  D'Espre- 
menil descends  on  the  lap  of  a  Printer's  Danae,  in  the  shape 
of  '  five  hundred  louis  d'or  : '  the  Danae's  Husband  smuggles 
a  ball  of  clay  to  her  :  which  she  delivers  to  the  golden  Coun- 
sellor of  Parlement.  Kneaded  within  it,  there  stick  printed 
proof-sheets  : — by  Heaven  !  the  royal  Edict  of  that  same  self- 
registering  Plenary  Court  ;  of  those  Grand  Bailliagest]ia,t  shall 
cut  short  our  Lawsuits  !  It  is  to  be  promulgated  over  all 
France  in  one  and  the  same  day. 

This,  then,  is  what  the  Intendants  were  bid  wait  for  at  their 
posts  :  this  is  w^hat  the  Court  sat  hatching,  as  its  accursed 
cockatrice-egg ;  and  would  not  stir,  though  provoked,  till  the 
brood  were  out !  Hie  with  it  d'Espremenil,  home  to  Paris  ; 
convoke  instantaneous  Session  ;  let  the  Parlement,  and  tho 
Earth,  and  the  Heavens  know  it. 


CHAPTEE  Vm. 

LOM^  NIe's    DEATH-THEOES. 


On  the  morrow,  which  is  the  3d  of  May,  1788,  an  astonished 
Parlement  sits  convoked  ;  listens  speechless  to  the  speech  of 
d'Espremenil,  unfolding  the  infinite  misdeed.  Deed  of  treach- 
ery ;  of  unhallowed  darkness,  such  as  Despotism  loves  !  De- 
nomice  it,  O  Parlement  of  Paris  ;  awaken  France  and  the  Uni- 
verse ;  roU  what  thunder-barrels  of  forensic  eloquence  thou 
hast :  with  thee  too,  it  is  verily  Now  or  never. 

The  Parlement  is  not  wanting,  at  such  juncture.  In  the 
Lour  of  his  extreme  jeopardy,  the  hon  first  incites  himself  by 
roaring,  by  lashing  his  sides.  So  here  the  Parlement  of  Paris. 
On  tlie  motion  of  d'Espremenil,  a  most  patriotic  Oath,  of  the 
Oue-and-all  sort,  is  sworn,  with  united  throat; — an  excellent 
new-idea,  w'hich,  in  these  coming  years,  shall  not  remain  un- 
imitated.  Next  comes  indomitable  Declaration,  almost  of  the 
rights  of  man,  at  least  of  the  rights  of  Parlement ;  Invocation 


100  TUE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

to  the  friends  of  Freucb  Freedom,  in  this  and  in  subsequent 
time.  All  which,  or  the  essence  of  all  which,  is  brought  to  paper  ; 
in  a  tone  wherein  something  of  plaintiveness  blends  with,  and 
tempers,  heroic  valour.  And  thus,  having  sounded  the  storm- 
bell, — which  Paris  hears,  which  all  France  will  hear ;  and 
hurled  such  defiance  in  the  teeth  of  Lomenie  and  Despotism, 
the  Parlement  retires  as  from  a  tolerable  first  day's  work. 

But  how  Lomenie  felt  to  see  his  cockatrice-egg  (so  essential 
to  the  salvation  of  France)  broken  in  this  premature  manner, 
let  readers  fancy  !  Indignant  he  clutches  at  his  thunder-bolts 
{de  Cachet,  of  the  Seal)  ;  and  launches  two  of  them  :  a  bolt 
for  d'Espremenil ;  a  bolt  for  that  busy  Goeslard,  whose  ser- 
vice in  the  Second  Twentieth  and  '  strict  valuation,'  is  not  for- 
gotten. Such  bolts  clutched  promptly  overnight,  and  launched 
with  the  early  new  morning,  shall  strike  agitated  Paris,  if  not 
into  requiescence,  yet  into  wholesome  astonishment. 

Ministerial  thunder-bolts  may  be  launched  ;  but  if  they  do 
not  hit  f  D'Espremenil  and  Goeslai'd,  warned,  both  of  them, 
as  is  thought,  by  the  singing  of  some  friendly  bird,  elude  the 
Lomenie  Tipstaves  ;  escape  disguised  through  skywindows, 
over  roofs,  to  their  own  Palais  de  Justice  :  the  thunderbolts 
have  missed.  Paris  (for  the  buzz  flies  abroad)  is  struck  into 
astonishment  not  wholesome.  The  two  Martyrs  of  Liberty 
doll"  their  disguises ;  don  their  long  gowns  :  behold !  in  the 
space  of  an  hour,  by  aid  of  ushers  and  swift  runners,  the  Par- 
lement, with  its  Counsellors,  Presidents,  even  Peers,  sits  anew 
assembled.  The  assembled  Pai-lement  declares  that  these  its 
two  Martyrs  cannot  be  given  up,  to  any  sublunary  authority ; 
moreover  that  the  '  session  is  permanent,'  admitting  of  no 
adjournment,  till  pursuit  of  them  has  been  relinquished. 

And  so,  with  forensic  eloquence,  denunciation  and  protest, 
with  couriers  going  and  returnmg,  the  Parlement,  in  this  stato 
bf  continual  explosion  that  shall  cease  neither  night  nor  day, 
waits  the  issue.  Awakened  Paris  once  more  inundates  those 
outer  courts  ;  boils,  in  floods  wilder  than  ever,  through  all 
avenues.  Dissonant  hubbub  there  is  ;  jargon  as  of  Babel,  in 
the  hour  when  they  were  first  smitten  (as  here)  with  mutual 
uniutelligibiiity,  and  the  people  had  not  yet  dispersed  ! 


LOMi:NIE\S  DEATH-THROES.  101 

Paris  City  goes  through  its  diurnal  ej)Ochs,  of  ^Yorking  and 
slumbering  ;  and  now,  for  the  second  time,  most  European 
and  Afiican  mortals  are  asleep.  But  here,  in  this  Whirlpool 
of  Words  sleep  falls  not ;  the  Night  spreads  her  coverlid  of 
Darkness  over  it  in  vain.  Within  is  the  sound  of  mere 
martyr  invincibility  ;  tempered  with  the  due  tone  of  plaintive- 
ness.  Without  is  the  infinite  expectant  hum, — growing  drow- 
sier a  little.     So  has  it  lasted  for  six-and-thu'ty  hours. 

But  hark  !  through  the  dead  of  midnight,  what  tramp  is 
this?  Tramp  as  of  armed  men,  foot  and  horse;  Gardes 
Frangaises,  Gardes  Suisses  :  marching  hither  ;  in  silent  regu- 
larity ;  in  the  flare  of  torchlight !  There  are  sappers  too,  with 
axes  and  crowbars  :  apparently,  if  the  doors  open  not,  they 
will  be  forced  ! — It  is  CaiDtain  d'Agoust,  missioned  from  Ver- 
sailles. D"Agoust,  a  man  of  known  firmness  ;  — who  once 
forced  Prince  Conde  himseK,  by  mere  incessant  looking  at  him, 
to  give  satisfaction  and  fight :  * — he  now^,  wdth  axes  and 
torches,  is  advancing  on  the  very  sanctuary  of  Justice.  Sacri- 
legious ;  yet  what  help  ?  The  man  is  a  soldier  ;  looks  merely  at 
his  orders  ;  impassive,  moves  forward  like  an  inanimate  engine. 

The  doors  open  on  summons,  there  need  no  axes  ;  door 
after  door.  And  now  the  innermost  door  opens  ;  discloses  the 
long-gowned  Senators  of  France  :  a  hundred  and  sixty-seven 
by  tale,  seventeen  of  them  Peers  ;  sitting  there,  majestic,  '  in 
permanent  session.'  Were  not  the  man  military,  and  of  cast 
ii'on,  this  sight,  this  silent  re-echoing  the  clank  of  his  own 
boots,  might  stagger  him  !  For  the  hundred  and  sixty-seven . 
receive  him  in  perfect  silence  ;  which  some  liken  to  that  of  the 
Roman  Senate  over-fallen  by  Brennus  ;  some  to  that  of  a  nest 
of  coiners  sui'prised  by  ofiicers  of  the  Police,  f  Messieurs,  said 
d'Agoust,  Depar  le  Roi  !  Express  order  has  charged  d'Agoust 
with  the  sad  duty  of  arresting  two  individuals  :  ]VL  Duval 
d'Espremenil  and  M.  Goeslard  de  Monsabert.  W^hich  respect- 
able individuals,  as  he  has  not  the  honour  of  knowing  them, 
are  hereby  invited  in  the  King's  name  to  sun-ender  themselves. 
—Profound  silence  !  Buzz,  which  grows  a  murmur  ;  "we  are 
*  Weber,  i.  283.  t  Besenval,  iii.  355. 


102  THE  rAHLhM£::r  of  paihs. 

all  d'Espr«^menils ! "  ventures  a  voice  ;  which  other  voices 
repeat.  The  President  inquires,  Whether  he  will  employ  vio- 
lence? Captain  d'Agoust,  honoured  with  his  Majesty's  com- 
mission, has  to  execute  his  ]Majesty's  order  ;  would  so  gladly 
do  it  without  violence,  will  in  any  case  do  it ;  grants  an  august 
Senate  space  to  deliberate  which  method  they  prefer.  And 
thereupon  d'Agoust,  with  grave  military  courtesy,  has  with- 
drawn for  the  moment. 

"What  boots  it,  august  Senators  ?  All  avenues  are  closed 
with  fixed  bayonets.  Your  Courier  galloj)s  to  Versailles, 
through  the  dewy  Night ;  but  also  gallops  back  again,  with 
tidings  that  the  order  is  authentic,  that  it  is  irrevocable.  The 
outer  courts  simmer  with  idle  population  ;  but  d'Agoust's 
grenadier-ranks  stand  there  as  immovable  floodgates  :  there 
will  be  no  revolting  to  deliver  you.  "  Messieurs  ! "  thus  spoke 
d'Espremenil,  "when  the  victorious  Gauls  entered  Rome, 
"  which  they  had  carried  by  assault,  the  Roman  Senators, 
"  clothed  in  their  purple,  sat  there,  in  their  cui-ule  chairs,  with 
"a  proud  and  tranquil  countenance,  awaiting  slavery  or  death. 
"  Such  too  is  the  lofty  spectacle,  which  you,  in  this  hour,  offer 
"to  the  universe  {d  Vunivera),  after  having  generously  " — with 
much  more  of  the  like,  as  can  still  be  read.  * 

In  vain,  O  d'Espremenil !  Here  is  this  cast-iron  Captain 
d'Agoust,  with  his  cast-ii'on  militaiy  air,  come  back.  Despo- 
tism, constraint,  destruction  sit  weaving  in  his  jDlumes.  D'Es- 
premenil must  fall  silent ;  heroically  give  himself  up,  lest 
worst  befall  Him  Goeslard  heroically  imitates.  With  spoken 
and  speechless  emotion,  they  fling  themselves  into  the  arms 
of  their  Parlementary  brethren,  for  a  last  embrace  :  and  so 
amid  plaudits  and  plaints,  fi'om  a  hundred  and  sixty -five 
throats  ;  amid  wavings,  sobbings,  a  whole  forest-sigh  of  Par- 
lementary pathos, — they  are  led  through  winding  passages,  to 
the  rear-gate  ;  where,  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  two  Coaches 
with  Exempts  stand  waiting.  There  must  the  victims  mount ; 
bayonets  menacing  behind.  D'Espremenil's  stern  question  to 
the  populace,  '  Whether  they  have  coui-age  ? '  is  answered  by 
silence.  They  mount,  and  roll ;  and  neither  the  rising  of  th« 
*  Toulongtion,  i.  App.  20. 


lomenie's  death-throes.  103 

May  sun  (it  is  the  6tli  morning),  nor  its  setting,  shall  lighten 
their  heart,  but  they  fare  forward  continually  :  d'Espremenil 
towards  the  utmost  Isles  of  Sainte  Marguerite,  or  Hieres  (sup- 
posed by  some,  if  that  is  any  comfort,  to  be  Calypso's  Island) ; 
Goeslard  towards  the  land-fortress  of  Pierre-en-Cize,  extant 
then,  near  the  City  of  Lyons. 

Captain  d'Agoust  may  now  therefore  look  forward  to  Major- 
ship,  to  Commandantship  of  the  Tuileries  ;  * — and  withal  van- 
ish fi'om  History  ;  where  nevertheless  he  has  been  fated  to  do 
a  notable  thing.  For  not  only  are  d'Espremenil  and  Goeslard 
safe  Avhirhng  southward  ;  but  the  Parlement  itself  has  straight- 
way to  march  out  :  to  that  also  his  inexorable  order  reaches. 
Gathering  up  their  long  skirts,  they  file  out,  the  whole  Him- 
dred  and  Sixty-five  of  them,  through  two  rows  of  unsympa- 
thetic grenadiers  :  a  spectacle  to  gods  and  men.  The  people 
revolt  not ;  they  only  wonder  and  grumble  :  also,  we  remark, 
these  unsjTnpathetic  grenadiers  are  Gardes  Franpaises, — who, 
one  day,  ■v^oll  symjDathise  !  In  a  word,  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice is  swept  clear,  the  doors  of  it  are  locked  ;  and  d'Agoust 
returns  to  Versailles  wdth  the  key  in  his  pocket, — having,  as 
was  said,  merited  preferment. 

As  for  this  Parlement  of  Paris,  now  turned  out  to  the 
street,  we  will  without  reluctance  leave  it  there.  The  Beds 
of  Justice  it  had  to  undergo,  in  the  coming  fortnight,  at  Ver- 
sailles, in  registering,  or  rather  refusing  to  register,  those 
new-hatched  Edicts ;  and  how  it  assembled  in  taverns  and  tap- 
i-ooms  there,  for  the  purj)ose  of  Protesting  ;  j-  or  hovered  dis- 
consolate, with  outspread  sku-ts,  not  knowing  where  to  assem- 
ble ;  and  was  reduced  to  lodge  Protest  '  with  a  Notary  ; '  and 
in  the  end,  to  sit  still  (in  a  state  of  forced  '  vacation '),  and  do 
nothing :  all  this,  natural  now,  as  the  burying  of  the  dead  after 
battle,  shaU  not  concern  us.  The  Parlement  of  Paris  has  as 
good  as  performed  its  part  ;  doing  and  misdoing,  so  fai',  but 
hardly  further,  it  could  stii-  the  world. 

Lomenie  has  removed  the  evil  then  ?     Not  at  aU :  not  so 
much  as  the  symptom  of  the  eWl ;  scarcely  the  twelfth  part  of 
*  Montgaillard,  i.  404  t  Weber,  i.  299-303. 


104:  THE  PARLEMENT   OF  PARIS. 

the  symptom,  and  exasperated  the  other  eleven  !  The  Inten* 
dauts  of  Pro^dnces,  the  military  Commandants  are  at  theii 
posts,  on  the  appointed  8th  of  JVIay ;  but  in  no  Parlement,  if 
not  in  the  single  one  of  Douai,  can  these  new  Edicts  get  reg- 
istei-ed.  Not  peaceable  signing  with  ink  ;  but  browbeating, 
bloodshedding,  appetd  to  primary  club-law !  Against  these 
Bailliages,  against  this  Plenary  Court,  exasperated  Teemis 
everywhere  shows  face  of  buttle  :  the  Provincial  Xoblesse  are 
of  her  party,  and  whoever  hates  Lomenie  and  the  evil  time  ; 
with  her  Attorneys  and  Tipstaves,  she  enUsts  and  ojierates 
down  even  to  the  populace.  At  Rennes  in  Brittanj^,  where 
the  Historical  Bertrand  de  MoleviUe  is  Litendant,  it  has 
passed  from  fatal  continual  dueUing,  between  the  militaiy 
and  gentry,  to  street-fighting ;  to  stone  voUeys  and  musket- 
shot  :  and  still  the  Edicts  remain  unregistered.  The  afHicted 
Bretons  send  remonstrance  to  Lomenie,  by  a  Deputation  of 
Twelve  ;  whom,  however,  Lomenie,  ha\'ing  heard  them,  shuts 
up  in  the  Bastille.  A  second  larger  Deputation  he  meets,  by 
his  scouts,  on  the  road,  and  persuades  or  frightens  back.  But 
now  a  third  largest  Deputation  is  indignantly  sent  by  many 
roads :  refused  audience  on  arriving,  it  meets  to  take  counsel ; 
invites  Lafayette  and  all  Patriot  Bretons  in  Paris  to  assist ; 
agitates  itself  ;  becomes  the  Breton  Club,  first  germ  of — the 
Jacobins  Society.* 

So  many  as  eight  Parlements  get  exiled  :f  others  might 
need  that  remedy,  but  it  is  one  not  always  easy  of  apjjliance. 
At  Grenoble,  for  instance,  where  a  Mounier,  a  Barnave  have 
not  been  idle,  the  Parlement  had  due  order  (by  Lettres-de- 
Cachet)  to  depart,  and  exile  itself :  but  on  the  morrow,  instead 
of  coaches  getting  yoked,  the  alarm-bell  bursts  forth,  omi- 
.nous  ;  and  jDcals  and  booms  all  day  :  crowds  of  mountaineers 
rush  down,  with  axes,  even  with  firelocks, — whom  {most  omi- 
nous of  all !)  the  soldiery  shows  no  eagerness  to  deal  with. 
'  Axe  over  head,'  the  poor  General  has  to  sign  capitulation  ; 
to  engage  that  the  Lettres-de- Cachet  shall  remain  unexecuted, 

*  A.   F.  de  Bertrand-Moleville :   Memoires  Particuliers  (Paris,  1816J 
I.  ch.  i. — Marmoutel:  Mtmoires,  iv.  27. 
\  Moiitgaillard,  i.  308. 


LOMSmE'S  DEATH-THROES.  105 

and  a  beloved  Parlement  stay  where  it  is.  Besancon^  Dijon, 
Eouen,  Bordeaux,  are  not  what  they  should  be !  At  Pau  in 
Beam,  where  the  old  Commandant  had  failed,  the  new  one  (a 
Grammont,  native  to  them)  is  met  by  a  Procession  of  towns- 
men with  the  Cradle  of  Henri  Quatre,  the  Palladium  of  their 
Town  ;  is  conjured  as  he  venerates  this  old  Tortoise-shell,  in 
which  the  great  Henri  was  rocked,  not  to  trample  on  Bear- 
nese  liberty  ;  is  informed,  withal,  that  his  Majesty's  cannon 
are  all  safe — in  the  keeping  of  his  Majesty's  faithful  Burghers 
of  Pau,  and  do  now  lie  pointed  on  the  walls  there  ;  ready  for 
action  !  * 

At  this  rate,  your  Grand  Bailliages  are  like  to  have  a  stonny 
infancy.  As  for  the  Plenary  Court,  it  has  literally  expired  in 
the  birth.  The  very  Courtiers  looked  shy  at  it ;  old  Marshal 
Broglie  declined  the  honour  of  sitting  therein.  Assaulted  by 
a  universal  storm  of  mingled  ridicule  and  execration,  f  this 
poor  Plenai-y  Court  met  once,  and  never  any  second  time. 
Distracted  country  !  Contention  hisses  up,  with  forked 
hydra-tongues,  wheresoever  poor  Lomenie  sets  his  foot. 
'Let  a  Commandant,  a  Commissioner  of  the  King,'  says 
Weber,  '  enter  one  of  these  Parlements  to  have  an  Edict 
'  registered,  the  whole  Tribunal  will  disappear,  and  leave  the 
'  Commandant  alone  with  the  Clerk  and  First  President.  The 
'  Edict  registered  and  the  Commandant  gone,  the  whole  Tri- 
'  bunal  hastens  back,  to  declare  such  registration  null.  The 
'  highway's  are  covered  with  Grand  Deputations  of  Parlements, 
'  proceeding  to  Versailles,  to  have  their  registers  exjDunged 
'  by  the  King's  hand  ;  or  returning  home,  to  cover  a  new  page 
'  with  a  new  resolution  still  more  audacious. 'J 

Such  is  the  France  of  this  year,  1788.     Not  now  a  Golden 

*  Besenval,  iii.  348. 

f  La  Com-  Pleniere,  heroi-tragi-comedie  en  trois  actes  et  en  prose  ; 
jonee  le  14  Juillet,  1788,  par  nne  societe  d'amateurs  dans  un  CMteau 
aux  environs  de  Versailles  :  par  M.  I'Abbe  de  Vermond,  Lecteur  de  la 
Reine  ;  A.  Baville  {Lronoignon's  Country-lionse),  et  se  trouve  a  Paris,  cliez 
la  veuve  Liberie,  a  I'enseigne  de  la  Revolution,  1788. — La  Passion,  la 
Mort  et  la  Resurrection  dn  Peuple;  Imprima  a  Jerusalem,  &c.  &.c. — See 
Montgaillard,  1.  407. 

X  Weber,  i.  275. 


100  TUE  PARLEMENr  OF  PARIS. 

or  Paper  Age  of  Hope  ;  with  its  liorse-racings,  balloon  flyings, 
and  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart :  ah,  gone  is  that ;  its  golden 
effulgence  jDaled,  bedarkened  in  tJds  singular  manner, — brew- 
ing towards  preternatural  weather !  For,  as  in  that  wreck- 
storm  of  Paul  et  Yirr/inie  and  Saint  Pierre, — 'One  huge  mo- 
'  tionless  cloud'  (say,  of  Sorrow  and  Indignation)  '  girdles  our 
'  whole  horizon  ;  streams  up,  haiiy,  coi^per-edged,  over  a  sky  of 
'  the  colour  of  lead.  Motionless  itself ;  but  small  clouds '  (as 
exiled  Parlements  and  such  like),  'parting  from  it,  fly  over  the 
*  zenith,  with  the  velocity  of  bu'ds  :' — till  at  last,  with  one  loud 
howl,  the  whole  Four  Winds  be  dashed  together,  and  all  the 
world  exclaim.  There  is  the  tornado  !  Tuut  le  monde  secria, 
VoildVouragan  ! 


For  the  rest,  in  such  circumstances,  the  Successive  Loan, 
veiy  naturally,  remains  unfilled  ;  neither,  indeed,  can  that  im- 
post of  the  Second  Twentieth,  at  least  not  on  strict  valuation, 
be  levied  to  good  jDurpose  :  '  Lenders,'  says  Weber,  in  his  hys- 
terical vehement  manner,  'are  afraid  of  ruin  ;  tax-gatherers  of 
hanging.'  The  very  Clergy  tm-n  away  their  face  :  convoked  in 
Extraordinary  Assembly,  they  afford  no  gratuitous  gift  {don 
gratuil), — if  it  be  not  that  of  advice  ;  here  too  instead  of  cash 
is  clamour  for  States-General.* 

O  Lomenie-Brienne,  with  thy  flimsy  mind  all  bewildered, 
and  now  '  three  actual  cauteries '  on  thy  worn-out  body  ;  who 
art  like  to  die  of  inflammation,  pi'ovocation,  milk-diet,  dartres 
vives  and  maladie — (best  untranslated)  ;  f  and  presidest  over  a 
France  with  innumerable  actual  cauteries,  which  also  is  dpng 
of  inflammation  and  the  rest !  Was  it  wise  to  quit  the  bosky 
verdures  of  Brienne,  and  thy  new  ashlar  Chateau  there,  and 
what  it  held,  for  this  ?  Soft  were  those  shades  and  lawns  ; 
sweet  the  hymns  of  Poetastei-s,  the  blandishments  of  high- 
rouged  Graces  ;  |  and  always  this  and  the  other  Philosophe 
Morellet  (notliing  deeming  himself  or  thee  a  questionable 
Sham-Priest)  could  be  so  happy  in  making  happy : — and  also 

*  Lameth  :    Assemb.    Const.    ( Iiitrod. )  p.  87. 
f  Montgaillard,  i.  424.  %  See  Memoiies  de  Morellet. 


LOMENIE'S  DEATII-TIIROES.  107 

(liadst  thou  known  it),  in  the  Military  School  hard  by,  there 
sat,  studying  mathematics,  a  dusky-complexioued  taciturn  Boy, 
under  the  name  of  :  Napoleon  Bonaparte  ! — With  fifty  years  of 
effort,  and  one  final  dead-lift  struggle,  thou  hast  made  an  ex- 
change !  Thou  hast  got  thy  robe  of  office, — as  Herctdes  had 
his  Nessus'-shu-t. 


On  the  13th  of  July,  of  this  1788,  there  fell,  on  the  very  edge 
of  harvest,  the  most  frightful  hail-storm  ;  scattering  into  wild 
waste  the  Fruits  of  the  Year ;  which  had  otherwise  suffered 
grievously  by  di'ought.  For  sixty  leagues  round  Paiis  espe- 
cially, the  ruin  was  almost  total.*  To  so  many  other  evils 
then,  there  was  to  be  added,  that  of  dearth,  perhaps  of  famine. 

Some  days  before  this  hail-storm,  on  the  5th  of  July ;  and 
still  more  decisively  some  days  after  it,  on  the  8th  of  August, 
— Lomenie  announces  that  the  States-General  are  actually  to 
meet  in  the  following  Month  of  May.  Till  after  which  period, 
this  of  the  Plenary  Court,  and  the  rest,  shall  remain  poMponed. 
Further,  as  in  Lomenie  there  is  no  plan  of  forming  or  holding 
these  most  desirable  States-General,  '  thinkers  are  invited '  to 
furnish  him  with  one, — through  the  medium  of  discussion  by 
the  public  press  ! 

What  could  a  poor  Minister  do  ?  There  are  still  ten  months 
of  respite  reserved  :  a  sinking  pilot  will  fling  out  all  things, 
his  very  biscuit-bags,  lead,  log,  compass  and  quadrant,  befoi-e 
flinging  out  himself.  It  is  on  this  princii^le,  of  sinking,  and 
the  incipient  delirium  of  despair,  that  we  explain  likewise  the 
almost  miraculous  'invitation  to  thinkers.'  Invitation  to 
Chaos  to  be  so  kind  as  build,  out  of  its  tumultuous  drift- 
wood, an  Ark  of  Escaj^e  for  him  !  In  these  cases,  not  invita- 
tion but  command  has  usually  proved  serviceable. — The  Queen 
stood,  that  evening,  pensive,  in  a  w^indow,  with  her  face  turned 
towards  the  Garden.  The  Chef  de  Gobelet  had  followed  her 
with  an  obsequious  cup  of  coffee  ;  and  then  retired  till  it  were 
sipped.  Her  Majesty  beckoned  Dame  Campan  to  approach  : 
"  Grand  Dieu  ! "  murmured  she  with  the  cup  in  her  hand, 

*  Marmoutel,  iv.  30. 


108  THE  PARLEMEXT  OF  PARIS. 

"  What  a  piece  of  news  will  be  made  public  to-day  \  The 
King  grants  States-General."  Then  raising  her  eyes  to  Heaven 
(if  Camimn  were  not  mistaken),  she  added:  "'Tis  a  first 
beat  of  the  di'um,  of  ill-omen  for  France.  This  Noblesse 
"  will  ruin  us."  * 

During  all  that  hatching  of  the  Plenary  Court,  while  La- 
moignon  looked  so  mysterious,  Besenval  had  kept  asking  him 
one  question  :  Whether  they  had  cash  ?  To  which  as  Lamoig- 
non  always  answered  (on  the  faith  of  Lomenie)  that  the  cash 
was  safe,  judicious  Besenval  rejoined  that  then  all  was  safa 
Nevertheless  the  melancholy  fact  is  that  the  royal  coffers  are 
almost  getting  literally  void  of  coin.  Indeed,  apart  from  all 
other  things,  this  '  invitation  to  thinkers,'  and  the  gTcat  change 
now  at  hand,  are  enough  to  '  arrest  the  circulation  of  capital,' 
and  forward  only  that  of  pamphlets.  A  few  thousand  gold  louis 
are  now  all  of  money  or  money's  worth  that  i-emains  in  the 
King's  Treasury.  With  another  movement  as  of  desperation, 
Lomenie  invites  Necker  to  come  and  be  Controller  of  Fi- 
nances !  Necker  has  other  work  in  view  than  controlling 
Finances  for  Lomenie  :  vv'ith  a  dry  refusal  he  stands  taciturn  ; 
awaiting  his  time. 

Yv'hat  shall  a  desperate  Prime  Minister  do  ?  He  has  grasped 
at  the  strong  box  of  the  King's  Theatre  :  some  Lottery  had 
been  set  on  foot  for  those  sufferers  by  the  Hail-storm  ;  in  his 
extreme  necessity,  Lomenie  lays  hands  even  on  this,  f  To 
make  provision  for  the  passing  day,  on  any  tex-ms,  will  soon 
be  impossible.  On  the  IGtli  of  August,  poor  Weber  heard,  at 
Paris  and  Versailles,  hawkers,  '  with  a  hoarse  stifled  tone  of 
voice  [mix  etoiiffee,  sourcle),'  drawling  and  snuffling,  through 
tlie  streets,  an  Edict  concerning  Payments  (such  was  the  soft 
title  Rivarol  had  contrived  for  it)  :  all  Payments  at  the  Eoyal 
Treasury  shall  be  made  henceforth,  thi*ee-fifths  in  Cash,  and 
the  remaining  two  fifths  in  Paper  bearing  interest !  Poor 
Weber  almost  swooned  at  the  sound  of  these  cracked  voices^ 
with  their  bodeful  raven-note  ;  and  will  never  forget  the  effect 
it  had  on  him.  \ 

*  Campan.  iii.  104,  111.  f  Besenval,  iii.  360.         J  Weber,  i.  339. 


LOMENIE'S  DEATH- THROES.  109 

But  the  effect  on  Paiis,  on  tlie  world  generally  ?  From  the 
dens  of  Stock-brokerage,  from  the  heights  of  Political  Econ- 
omy, of  Neckerism  and  Philosophism  ;  from  all  articulate  and 
inarticulate  throats,  rise  hootings  and  howlings,  such  as  ear 
had  not  yet  heard.  Sedition  itself  may  be  imminent !  Mon- 
seigneur  d'Artois,  moved  by  Duchess  Polignac,  feels  called  to 
wait  on  her  Majesty  ;  and  explain  frankly  what  crisis  matters 
stand  in.  '  The  Queen  wept ;'  Brieune  himself  wept ; — for  it 
is  now  visible  and  palpable  that  he  must  go. 

Kemains  only  that  the  Court,  to  whom  his  manners  and 
garrulities  were  always  agreeable,  shall  make  his  fall  soft. 
The  grasjDing  old  man  has  already  got  his  Archbishopship  of 
Toulouse  exchanged  for  the  richer  one  of  Sens  :  and  now,  in 
this  hour  of  pity,  he  shall  have  the  Coadjutorship  for  his 
nejDhew  (hardly  yet  of  due  age)  ;  a  Dameship  of  the  Palace  for 
his  niece  ;  a  Regiment  for  her  husband  ;  for  himself  a  red 
Cardinal's-hat,  a  Cokj)  de  Bois  (cutting  from  the  royal  forests), 
and  on  the  whole  '  from  five  to  six  hundred  thousand  li\Tes  of 
revenue  : '  *  finally  his  Brother,  the  Comte  de  Brienne,  shall 
still  continue  War-minister.  Buckled  round  with  such  bol- 
sters and  huge  featherbeds  of  Promotion,  let  him  now  fall  as 
soft  as  he  can  ! 

And  so  Lomenie  departs  :  rich  if  Court-titles  and  Money- 
bonds  can  enrich  him  ;  but,  if  these  cannot,  perhaps  the  poor- 
est of  all  extant  men.  'Hissed  at  by  the  people  of  Versailles,' 
he  drives  forth  to  Jardi ;  southward  to  Brienne, — for  recovery 
of  health.  Then  to  Nice,  to  Italy  ;  but  shall  return  ;  shall 
glide  to  and  fro,  tremulous,  faint-twinkling,  fallen  on  awful 
times  :  till  the  Guillotine — snuff  out  his  weak  existence  ? 
Alas,  worse  :  for  it  is  blown  out,  or  choked  out,  foully,  j^itiably, 
on  the  way  to  the  Guillotine !  In  his  Palace  of  Sens,  rude 
Jacobin  Bailiffs  made  him  drink  with  them  from  his  own 
wine-ceUars,  feast  with  them  from  his  own  larder  ;  and  on  the 
morrow  morning,  the  miserable  old  man  lies  dead.  This  is 
the  end  of  Prime  Minister,  Cardinal  Archbishop  Lomenie  de 
Brienne.  Flimsier  mortal  was  seldom  fated  to  do  as  weighty 
a  mischief;  to  have  a  life  as  despicable-envied,  an  exit  as 
*  Weber,  i.  341. 


110  THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

frightful  Fired,  as  the  phrase  is,  with  ambition  :  blown,  like 
a  kindled  rag,  the  sport  of  winds,  not  this  way,  not  that  way, 
but  of  all  ways,  straight  towards  mch  a  powder-mine, — which 
he  kindled !  Let  us  pity  the  hapless  Lomenie  ;  and  forgive 
him  ;  and,  as  soon  as  possible,  forget  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

BUKI.y;.    WITH    BONFIRE. 


BESE>r\'AL,  during  these  extraordinary  operations,  of  Payment 
two-fifths  in  Paper,  and  change  of  Prime  jMinister,  had  been 
out  on  a  tour  through  his  District  of  Command  ;  and  indeed, 
for  the  last  months,  peacefully  drinking  the  waters  of  Con- 
trexeville.  Returning  now,  in  the  end  of  August,  towards 
Moulins,  and  '  knowing  nothing,'  he  arrives  one  evening  at 
Langres  ;  finds  the  whole  Town  in  a  state  of  uproar  {(jrande 
rumear).  Doubtless  some  sedition  ;  a  thing  too  common  in 
these  days !  He  alights  nevertheless  ;  inquiries  of  a  '  man 
tolerably  di'essed,'  what  the  matter  is? — "How?"  answers  the 
•man,  "  You  have  not  heard  the  news  ?  The  Archbishop  is 
"  thrown  out,  and  IVL  Necker  is  recalled  ;  and  all  is  going  to 
"  go  well."* 

Such  rumeur  and  vociferous  acclaim  has  risen  round  IM 
Necker,  ever  fi-om  'that  day  when  he  issued  from  the  Queen's 
Apartments,'  a  nominated  Minister.  It  was  on  the  24th  of 
August :  '  the  galleries  of  the  Chateau,  the  courts,  the  streets 
*  of  Versailles  ;  in  few  hom-s,  the  Capital ;  and,  as  the  news 
'  flew,  all  France,  resounded  with  the  cry  of  Vive  le  Roi,  Vive 
'  M.  Necker.'-\  In  Paris  indeed  it  unfortunately  got  the 
length  of  '  tm-bulence.'  Petards,  rockets  go  off,  in  the  Place 
Dauphine,  more  than  enough.  A  '  wicker  Figure  {Manne- 
quin d'osier),'  in  Archbishop's  stole,  made  emblematically, 
three-fifths  of  it  satin,  two-fifths  of  it  paper,  is  promenaded, 
not  in  silence,  to  the  popular  judgment-bar ;  is  doomed; 
shriven  by  a  mock  Abbo  de  Vermond  ;  then  solemnly  con« 
♦  Eeseuval,  iii  306.  t  Weber,  i.  342. 


BURIAL  WITH  BONFIRE.  Ill 

sumed  by  fire,  at  the  foot  of  Henri's  Statue  on  the  Pont 
Neut' ; — with  such  petarding  and  huzzaing  that  Chevalier 
Dubois  an:l  his  Citv-watch  see  good  finally  to  make  a  ch.irgo 
(more  or  less  ineffectual)  ;  and  there  wanted  not  burning  of 
sentry-boxes,  forcing  of  guard -houses,  and  also  '  dead  bodies 
thrown  into  the  Seine  over-night,'  to  avoid  new  effervescence.* 

Parlements  therefore  shall  return  from  exile  :  Plenary  Court, 
Payment  two-fifths  in  Paper  have  vanished  ;  gone  off  in 
smoke,  at  the  foot  of  Henri's  Statue.  States-General  (with  a 
Political  Millennium)  are  now  certain  ;  nay,  it  shall  be  an- 
nounced, in  our  fond  haste,  for  January  next :  and  all,  as  the 
Langres  man  said,  is  '  going  to  go.' 

To  the  prophetic  glance  of  Besenval,  one  other  thing  is  too 
aj)parent :  that  Friend  Lamoignon  cannot  keep  his  Keeper- 
ship.  Neither  he  nor  War-minister  Comte  de  Bi-ienne  !  Al- 
ready old  Foulon,  with  an  eye  to  be  war-minister  himself,  is 
making  underground  movements.  This  is  that  same  Foulon 
named  dme  damnee  du  Parlement ;  a  man  grown  gi-ay  in 
treachery,  in  griping,  pi'ojecting,  intriguing  and  iniquity : 
who  once  when  it  was  objected,  to  some  finance-scheme  of 
his,  "What  will  the  people  do?" — made  answer,  in  the  fire 
of  discussion,  "  The  people  may  eat  grass  : "  hasty  words, 
which  fly  abroad  ii-revocable, — and  will  send  back  tidings  ! 

Foulon,  to  the  rehef  of  the  world,  fails  on  this  occasion  ; 
and  will  always  fail.  Nevertheless  it  steads  not  ]V£  de  La^ 
moignon.  It  steads  not  the  doomed  man  that  he  have  inter- 
views with  the  King  ;  and  be  '  seen  to  return  radieux,'  emit- 
ting rai/s.  Lamoignon  is  the  hated  of  Parlements  ;  Comte  de 
Brienne  is  Brother  to  the  Cardinal  Archbishop.  The  24th 
of  August  has  been  ;  and  the  lith  of  September  is  not  yet, 
when  they  two,  as  their  great  Principal  had  done,  descend, — • 
made  to  fall  soft,  like  him. 

And  now,  as  if  the  last  burden  had  been  rolled  from  its 
heart  and  assurance  were  at  length  perfect,  Paris  bursts  forth 

*  Histoire  Parlementaire  de  la  Revolution  Fran(;aise  ;  ou  Journal  de 
Assemblees  Natioualea  depuis  1789  (Paris,  1833  et  seqq.))  i.  253— Lameth; 
Assembloe  Constituante,  1.  (iutrod.)  p.  89. 


112  Tin:  PARLFLMEXT   OF  FA  Pi  IS. 

anew  into  extreme  jubilee.  The  Bisoche  rejoices  aloud,  that 
the  foe  of  Parlement  is  fallen  ;  Nobility,  Gentry,  Commmonalty 
have  rejoiced  ;  and  rejoice.  Nay  now,  with  new  emphasis, 
EascaUty  itself,  starting  suddenly  from  its  dim  depths,  will 
arise  and  do  it, — for  down  even  thither  the  new  Political 
Evangel,  in  some  inide  version  or  other,  has  penetrated.  It  in 
Monday,  the  14th  of  September,  1788  :  Rascality  assembles 
anew,  in  great  force,  in  the  Place  Dauphine  ;  lets  off  petards, 
fires  blunderbusses,  to  an  incredible  extent,  without  interval, 
for  eighteen  hours.  There  is  again,  a  wicker  Figure,  '  man- 
nequin '  of  osier :  the  centre  of  endless  bowlings.  Also 
Necker's  portrait  snatched,  or  purchased,  from  some  Print- 
shop,  is  borne  processionally,  aloft  on  a  perch,  with  huzzas  ;— ' 
an  example  to  be  remembered. 

But  chiefly  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  where  the  Great  Henri,  in 
bronze,  rides  sublime  ;  there  do  the  crowds  gather.  All 
passengers  must  stop,  till  they  have  bowed  to  the  People's 
King,  and  said  audibly  :  Vive  Henri  Quatre;  au  diable  La- 
moirjnon  !  No  carriage  must  stop  ;  not  even  that  of  his  High- 
ness d'Orleans.  Your  coach-doors  are  opened  :  Monsieur  will 
please  to  put  forth  his  head  and  bow  :  or  even,  if  refractor}', 
to  alight  altogether,  and  kneel :  from  Madame  a  wave  of  her 
plumes,  a  smile  of  her  fair  face,  there  where  she  sits,  shall 
suffice  :  and  surely  a  coin  or  two  (to  hny  f usees)  Avere  not  im- 
reasonable,  from  the  Upper  Classes,  friends  of  Liberty  ?  In 
this  manner  it  proceeds  for  days  ;  in  such  rude  horse-play, — 
not  without  kicks.  The  City-watch  can  do  nothing  :  hardly 
save  its  own  skin  :  for  the  last  twelvemonth,  as  we  have  some- 
times seen,  it  has  been  a  kind  of  pastime  to  hunt  the  Watch. 
Besenval  indeed  is  at  hand  with  soldiers ;  but  they  have 
orders  to  avoid  fii'ing,  and  are  not  prompt  to  stir. 

On  Monday  morning  the  explosion  of  petards  began  :  and 
now  it  is  near  midnight  of  Wednesday  ;  and  the  '  Avicker 
mannequin '  is  to  be  buried,. — api^arently  in  the  Antique 
fashion.  Long  rows  of  torches,  following  it,  move  towards  the 
Hotel  Lamoignon  ;  but  '  a  servant  of  mine'  (Besenval  s)  has 
nni  to  give  waniing,  and  there  are  soldiers  come.  Gloomy 
Lamoignon  is  not  to  die  by  conflagratiou,  or  this  night ; — not 


BURIAL  WITH  BONFIRE.  113 

yet  for  a  year,  and  then  by  gunshot  (suicidal  or  accidental  is 
unknown).*  Foiled  Rascality  burns  its  '  Mannikin  of  osier,' 
under  his  windows  ;  'tears  up  the  sentry-box/  and  roUs  off: 
to  try  Brienne  ;  to  try  Dubois,  Captain  of  the  Watch.  Now, 
however,  all  is  bestirring  itself  ;  Gardes  Frauraises,  Invalides, 
Horse-patrol :  the  Torch  Procession  is  met  Avitli  sharp  shot, 
with  the  thrusting  of  bayonets,  the  slashing  of  sabres.  Even 
Dubois  makes  a  charge,  with  that  Cavaky  of  his,  and  the 
crudest  charge  of  all :  '  there  are  a  great  many  killed  and 
wounded.'  Not  without  clangour,  complaint  ;  subsequent 
criminal  trials,  and  official  persons  dying  of  heartbreak  !  | 
So,  however,  with  steel-besom,  Rascality  is  brushed  back  into 
its  dim  depths,  and  the  streets  are  swept  clear. 

Not  for  a  century  and  a  half  had  Rascality  ventured  to  step 
forth  in  this  fashion  ;  not  for  so  long,  showed  its  huge  rude 
lineaments  in  the  light  of  day.  A  Wonder,  a  new  Thing  :  as 
yet  gamboling  merely,  in  awkward  Brobdignag  sport,  not 
without  quaintness  ;  hardly  in  anger  :  yet  in  its  huge  haK- 
vacant  laugh  lurks  a  shade  of  grimness, — which  could  unfold 
itself  ! 

However,  the  thinkers  invited  by  Lomenie  are  now  far  ou 
with  their  pamphlets  :  States-General,  on  one  plan  or  another, 
will  infallibly  meet ;  if  not  in  January,  as  was  once  hoped,  yet 
at  latest  in  May.  Old  Duke  de  Richelieu,  moribund  in  these 
autumn  days,  opens  his  eyes  once  more,  murmuring,  "What 
would  Louis  Fourteenth "  (whom  he  remembers)  *'  have 
said !  " — then  closes  them  again,  forever,  before  the  ev'l  time. 

*  Histoire  cle  la  Revolution  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie, 
f  Ibid.,  p.  58. 

Vol.  L— 8 


"BOOK  IT. 


STA  TES-  GENERAL. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE    NOTABLES    AGAIN. 

The  universal  prayer,  therefore,  is  to  be  fulfilled !  Alwa3'a 
in  days  of  national  perplexity,  when  wrong  abounded  and 
help  was  not,  this  remedy  of  States-General  was  called  for  ; 
by  a  Malesherbes,  nay  by  a  Fenelon  f-  even  Parlements  call- 
ing for  it  were  'escorted  with  blessings.'  And  now  behold  it 
is  vouchsafed  us  ;  States-General  shall  verily  be  ! 

To  say,  let  States-General  be,  was  easy  ;  to  say  in  what 
manner  they  shall  be,  is  not  so  easy.  Since  the  year  1614, 
there  have  no  States-General  met  in  France  ;  all  trace  of  them 
has  vanished  from  the  living  habits  of  men.  Their  structure, 
powers,  methods  of  procedure,  which  were  never  in  any 
measure  fixed,  have  now  become  wholly  a  vague  possibility. 
Clay  which  the  potter  may  shape,  this  way  or  that : — sny 
rather,  the  twenty-five  millions  of  potters  ;  for  so  many  have 
now,  more  or  less,  a  vote  in  it !  How  to  shape  the  States- 
General?  There  is  a  problem.  Each  Body-coi-porate,  each 
privileged,  each  organised  Class  has  secret  hopes  of  its  own 
in  that  matter  ;  and  also  secret  misgivings  of  its  own, — for 
behold,  this  monstrous  twenty-milHon  Class,  hitherto  tlie 
dumb  sheep  which  these  others  had  to  agree  about  the  man- 
ner of  shearing,  is  now  also  arising  with  hopes  !  It  has  ceased 
or  is  ceasing  to  be  dumb  ;  it  speaks  through  Pamphlets,  or  at 
*  Montgaillard,  i.  461. 


116  ST  A  riJS-  G IJNBJRA  L. 

least  brays  and  growls  behind  them,  in  unison,- — increasing 
wonderfully  their  volume  of  sound. 

As  for  the  Parlement  of  Paris,  it  has  at  once  declared  for 
the  '  old  form  of  1G14.'  Which  form  had  this  advantage  that 
the  Tiers  Etat,  Third  Estate,  or  Commons,  figured  there  as  a 
show  mainly  :  whereby  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  had  but  to 
avoid  quarrel  between  themselves,  and  decide  unobstructed 
what  they  thought  best.  Such  was  the  clearly  declared  ophi- 
ion  of  the  Paris  Parlement.  But,  being  met  by  a  storm  of 
mere  hooting  and  howling  from  all  men,  such  oj)inion  wa? 
blown  straightway  to  the  winds  ;  and  the  popularity  of  ihe 
Parlement  along  with  it, — never  to  return.  The  Parlement's 
part,  we  said  above,  was  as  good  as  plaj^ed.  Concerning 
which,  however,  there  is  this  further  to  be  noted  :  the  prox- 
imity of  dates.  It  was  on  the  22d  of  September  that  the  Par- 
lement, returned  from  '  vacation '  or  '  exile  in  its  estates  ; '  to 
be  reinstalled  amid  boundless  jubilee  from  all  Paris.  Pre- 
cisely next  day,  it  was  that  this  same  Parlement  came  to  its 
'  clearly  declared  opinion  : '  and  then  on  the  morrow  after 
that,  you  behold  it  'covered  with  outrages  ;'  its  outer  court, 
one  vast  sibilation,  and  the  glory  departed  from  it  for  ever- 
more.* A  popularity  of  twenty-four  hours  was,  in  those 
times,  no  uncommon  allowance. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  superfluous  was  that  invitation  of 
Lomcnie :  the  invitation  to  thinkers !  Thinkers  and  ua- 
thinkers,  by  the  million,  are  spontaneously  at  their  post, 
doing  what  is  in  them.  Clubs  labour  :  Societe  Publicole  ; 
Breton  Club  ;  Enraged  Club,  Club  des  Enrages,.  Likewise 
Dinner-parties  in  the  Palais  Royal  ;  your  Mirabeaus,  Talley- 
rands  dining  there,  in  company  with  Chamforts,  Morellets, 
with  Duponts  and  hot  Parlementeers,  not  without  object ! 
For  a  certain  Neckereaxi  Lion's-provider,  whom  one  could 
name,  assembles  them  there  ;t— or  even  their  own  private  de- 
termination to  have  dinner  does  it.  And  then  as  to  Pam- 
phlets—in figurative  language,  'it  is  a  sheer  snowing  of 
'  pamphlets ;    like   to   snow   up   the   Government  thorough- 

*  Weber,  i.  347.  f  Ibid,  i.  3G0. 


THE  NOTABLES  AGAIN.  117 

'  fares  ! '  Now  is  the  time  for  Friends  of  Freedom  ;  sane,  and 
even  insane. 

Count,  or  self-styled  Count,  d'Aintrigues,  '  the  young  Lan- 
guedocian  gentleman,'  with  perhaps  Chamfort  the  Cynic  to 
help  him,  rises,  into  furor  almost  Pythic  ;  highest,  where 
many  are  high.  *  Foolish  young  Languedocian  gentleman  ; 
who  himself  so  soon,  '  emigratiug  among  the  foremost.'  has 
to  fly  indignant  over  the  marches,  with  the  Gontrat  Social  in  his 
pocket, — towards  outer  darkness,  thankless  intriguings,  ignis- 
fatuus  hoverings,  and  death  by  the  stiletto!  Abbe  Sieyes  has 
left  Chartres  Cathedral,  and  canonry  and  book-shelves  there  : 
has  let  his  tonsure  grow,  and  come  to  Paris  with  a  secular 
head,  of  the  most  irrefragable  sort,  to  ask  three  questions,  and 
answer  them  :  What  is  the  Third  Estate  ?  All.  What  has  it 
hitherto  been  in  our  form  of  government  ?  Nothing.  What 
does  it  want  ?     To  become  Something. 

D'Orleans,  for  be  sure  he,  on  his  way  to  Chaos,  is  in  the 
thick  of  this, — promulgates  his  Deliberations  ;  \  fathered  by 
him,  written  by  Laclos  of  the  Liaisons  Dangereuses.  The  result 
of  which  comes  out  simply  :  '  The  Third  Estate  is  the  Nation.' 
On  the  other  hand,  Monseigneur  d'Artois,  with  other  Princes 
of  the  Blood,  pubhshes,  in  solemn  Memorial  to  the  Iviug,  that, 
if  such  things  be  hstened  to.  Privilege,  Nobihty,  Monarchy, 
Church,  State,  and  Strongbox  are  in  danger.^  In  danger 
truly  :  and  yet  if  you  do  not  listen,  are  they  out  of  danger  ? 
It  is  the  voice  of  all  France,  this  sound  that  rises.  Immeas- 
urable, manifold  ;  as  the  sound  of  outbreaking  waters  :  wise 
were  he  who  knew  what  to  do  in  it, — if  not  to  fly  to  the  moun- 
taius,  and  hide  himself? 

How  an  ideal,  aU-seeing  Versailles  Government,  sitting  there 
on  such  principles,  in  such  an  environment,  would  have  deter- 
mined to  demean  itself  at  this  new  juncture  ;  may  even  yet  be 

*  Mtmoire  sur  les  Etats-Generaux.     See  Montgaillard,  i.  457-9. 

f  Deliberations  a  prendre  pour  les  Assemblees  des  Bailliages. 

JMemoire  presente  au  Roi  par  Monseigneur  Comte  d'Artois,  M.  le 
Prince  de  Conde,  M.  le  Due  de  Bourbon,  M.  le  Due  d'Enghien,  et  M.  le 
Trince  de  Conti.     (Given  in  Hif5t.  Pari.  i.  256.) 


113  STATES- GENERAL. 

a  question.  Such  a  Government  would  have  felt  too  well  that 
its  long  task  was  now  drawing  to  a  close  ;  that,  under  the 
guise  of  these  States- General,  at  length  inevitable,  a  new  omnip- 
otent Unknown  of  Democracy  was  coming  into  being  ;  in 
presence  of  which  no  Versailles  Government  either  could  or 
should,  except  in  a  provisory  character,  continue  extant.  To 
enact  which  provisory  character,  so  unspeakably  important, 
might  its  whole  faculties  but  have  sufficed  ;  and  so  a  peace- 
able, gradual,  well  conducted  Abdication  and  Domiae-dimittas 
have  been  the  issue  ! 

This  for  our  ideal,  all-seeing  Versailles  Government.  But 
for  the  actual  irrational  Versailles  Government  ?  Alas  !  that 
is  a  Government  existing  there  only  for  its  own  behoof  ;  with- 
out right,  except  possession  ;  and  now  also  without  might.  It 
foresees  nothing,  sees  nothing  ;  has  not  so  much  as  a  purpose, 
but  has  only  purposes, — and  the  instinct  whereby  all  that  ex- 
ists will  struggle  to  keep  existing.  Wholly  a  vortex  ;  in  which 
vain  counsels,  hallucinations,  falsehoods,  intrigues,  and  imbe- 
cihties  whirl  ;  like  withered  rubbish  in  the  meeting  of  winds  ! 
The  (Eil-de-Bceuf  has  its  irrational  hopes,  if  also  its  fears. 
Since  hitherto  all  States-General  have  done  as  good  as  nothing, 
why  should  these  do  more?  The  Commons,  indeed,  look 
dangerous  ;  but  on  the  whole  is  not  revolt,  unknown  now  for 
five  generations,  an  impossibility  ?  The  Three  Estates  can,  by 
management,  be  set  against  each  other ;  the  Third  will,  as 
heretofore,  join  with  the  King ;  will,  out  of  mere  spite  and 
self-interest,  be  eager  to  tax  and  vex  the  other  two.  The 
other  two  are  thus  delivered  bound  into  our  hands,  that  we 
may  fleece  them  likewise.  Whereupon,  money  being  got,  and 
the  Three  Estates  all  in  quarrel,  dismiss  them,  and  let  the 
future  go  as  it  can  !  As  good  Archbishop  Lomenie  was  wont 
to  say  :  "  There  are  so  many  accidents  ;  and  it  needs  but  one 
to  save  us." — Yes  ;  and  how  many  to  destroy  us  ? 

Poor  Necker  in  the  midst  of  such  an  anarchy  does  what  is 
possible  for  him.  He  looks  into  it  with  obstinately  hopeful 
face  ;  lauds  the  known  rectitude  of  the  kingly  mind  ;  hstens 
indulgent-like  to  the  known  perverseness  of  the  queenly  and 
courtly  ; — emits  if  any  proelamation  or  regulation,  one  favour- 


THE  NOTABLES  AGAIX.  119 

ing  the  Tiers  Etat ;  but  settling  nothing  ;  hovering  afar  off 
rather,  and  advising  all  things  to  settle  themselves.  The 
grand  questions,  for  the  present,  have  got  reduced  to  two :  the 
Double  Eepresentation,  and  the  Vote  by  Head.  Shall  the 
Commons  have  a  '  double  representation,'  that  is  to  say,  have 
as  many  members  as  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  united  ?  Shall 
the  States-General,  when  once  assembled,  vote  and  deliberate, 
in  one  body,  or  in  three  sepai*ate  bodies  ;  '  vote  by  head,  or 
vote  by  class,' — ordre  as  they  call  it  ?  These  are  the  moot- 
points  now  filling  all  Franco  with  jargon,  logic,  and  eleuthero- 
mania.  To  terminate  which,  Necker  bethinks  him,  Might  not 
a  second  Convocation  of  the  Notables  be  fittest  ?  Such  second 
Convocation  is  resolved  on. 

On  the  6th  of  November  of  this  year  1788,  these  Notables 
accordingly  have  reassembled  ;  after  an  interval  of  some  eigh- 
teen months.  They  are  Calonne's  old  Notables,  the  same 
Hundred  and  Forty-four,  to  show  one's  impartiality  ;  likewise 
to  save  time.  They  sit  there  once  again,  in  their  Seven  Bu- 
reaus in  the  hard  winter  weather  :  it  is  the  hardest  winter 
seen  since  1709  ;  thermometer  below  zero  of  Fahrenheit, 
Seine  River  fi-ozen  over.*  Cold,  scarcity,  and  eleutheroma- 
niac  clamour  :  a  changed  world  since  these  Notables  were 
'  organned  out,'  in  May  gone  a  year !  They  shall  see  now 
whether,  under  their  Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  in  their  Seven 
Bureaus,  they  can  settle  the  moot-points. 

To  the  surprise  of  Patriotism,  these  Notables,  once  so 
patriotic,  seem  to  incline  the  wrong  way  ;  towards  the  anti- 
patriotic  side.  They  stagger  at  the  Double  RejDresentation,  at 
the  Vote  by  Head  ;  there  is  not  affirmative  decision  ;  there  is 
mere  debating,  and  that  not  with  the  best  asj)ects.  For,  in- 
deed, were  not  these  Notables  themselves  mostly  of  the  Priv- 
ileged Classes  ?  They  clamoured  once  ;  now  they  have  their 
misgivings  ;  make  their  dolorous  representations.  Let  them 
vanish,  ineffectual  ;  and  return  no  more  !  They  vanish,  after 
a  month's  session,  on  this  12th  of  December,  year  1788  ;  the 
last  terrestrial  Notables  ;  not  to  reai:>pear  any  other  time,  in 
the  History  of  the  World. 

*  Marmontel :  M  moires  ^Lendon,  1805),  iv.  33.     Hi^t.  Pari.  &c. 


120  STATES.  GEiYEli  A  L. 

And  so,  the  clamour  still  coutiuuiug-,  and  the  Pamphlets  ; 
and  nothing  but  patriotic  Addresses,  louder  and  louder,  pour- 
ing in  on  us  from  all  corners  of  France, — Necker  himself  some 
fortnight  after,  before  the  year  is  yet  done,  has  to  present  his 
Report ;  *  recommending  at  his  own  risk  that  same  Double 
Representation  ;  nay,  almost  enjoining  it,  so  loud  is  the  jar- 
gon and  eleutheromania.  "What  dubitating,  what  circumam- 
bulating !  These  whole  six  noisy  months  (for  it  began  with 
Brienne  in  July),  has  not  Report  followed  Rejjort,  and  one  Proc- 
lamation flown  in  the  teeth  of  the  other  ?  f 

However,  that  first  moot-point,  as  we  see,  is  now  settled. 
As  for  the  second,  that  of  voting  by  Head  or  by  Order,  it  un- 
fortunately is  still  left  hanging.  It  hangs  there,  we  may  say, 
between  the  Piivileged  Orders  and  the  Unprivileged  ;  as  a 
ready-made  battle-prize,  and  necessity  of  war,  from  the  very 
first ;  Avhich  battle-prize  whosoever  seizes  it — ma}^  thenceforth 
bear  as  a  battle-flag,  with  the  best  omens  ! 

But  so,  at  least,  by  Royal  Edict  of  the  24:th  of  January,^ 
does  it  finally,  to  impatient  expectant  France,  become  not 
only  indubitable  that  National  Duputies  m-e  to  meet,  but  pos- 
sible (so  far  and  hardly  further  has  the  royal  Regulation  gone) 
to  besrin  electing  them. 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE     ELECTION 


Up,  then,  and  be  doing !  The  royal  signal-word  flies  through 
France,  as  through  vast  forests  the  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind. 
At  Parish  Chui'ches,  in  Townhalls,  and  every  House  of  Con- 
vocation ;  by  Bailliages,  by  Seneschalsies,  in  whatsoever  form 
men  convene  ;  there,  with  confusion  enough,  are  Primary  As- 
semblies forming.     To  elect  your  Electors  ;  such  is  the  form 

*  Eapport  fait  au  Roi  dans  son  Conseil,  le  27  Decembre,  1788. 
f  "ith  July  ;  8th  August ;  23d  September,  &c.  &c. 
X  Rt'glement  du  Roi  pour  la  Convocation  des  EtatsGencranx  a  Ver- 
sailles (Reprinted,  wrong  dated,  in  Ilistoire  Parleineutaire,  i.  2(32).     , 


THE  ELECTION.  121 

prescribed  :  then  to  draw  up  your  '  Writ  of  Plaints  and  Griev- 
ances [Cahier  de plaintes  et  doleances),'  of  wliicli  latter  there  is 
no  lack. 

With  such  virtue  works  this  Eoyal  January  Edict ;  as  it 
rolls  rajDidly,  in  its  leathern  mails,  along  these  frostbound 
highways,  towards  all  the  four  winds.  Like  some  fiaf-,  or 
magic  spell-word  ; — which  such  things  do  resemble  !  For  al- 
ways, as  it  sounds  out  '  at  the  market-cross,'  accomjianied  with 
trumpet-blast ;  presided  by  Bailli,  Seneschal,  or  other  minor 
Functionary,  with  beef-eaters ;  or,  in  country  churches,  is 
droned  forth  after  sermon,  'aic  prone  des  onesses  paroissales ; ' 
and  is  registered,  posted  and  let  fly  over  all  the  world, — you 
behold  how  this  multitudinous  French  People,  so  long  sim- 
mering and  buzzing  in  eager  expectancy',  begins  heaj^ing  and 
shaping  itself  into  organic  groups.  Which  organic  groups, 
again,  hold  smaller  organic  grouplets :  the  inarticulate  buzz' 
ing  becomes  articulate  speaking  and  acting.  By  Primary  As- 
sembly, and  then  by  Secondary  ;  by  '  successive  elections,' 
and  infinite  elaboration  and  scrutiny,  according  to  prescribed 
process, — shall  the  genuine  '  Plaints  and  Grievances  '  be  at 
length  got  to  paper  ;  shall  the  fit  National  RejDresentative  be 
at  length  laid  hold  of. 

How  the  whole  people  shakes  itself,  as  if  it  had  one  life  ; 
and  in  thousand-voiced  rumour,  aimounce  that  it  is  awake,  sud- 
denly out  of  long  death  sleej),  and  will  thenceforth  sleep  no 
more  !  The  long  looked-for  has  come  at  last ;  wondrous 
news,  of  Victory,  Deliverance,  Enfranchisement,  sounds  magi- 
cal through  every  heart.  To  the  proud  strong  man  it  has 
come  ;  whose  strong  hands  shall  no  more  be  gyved  ;  to  whom 
boundless  unconquered  continents  lie  disclosed.  The  weary 
day-drudge  has  heard  of  it ;  the  beggar  with  his  crust  mois- 
tened in  tears.  What !  To  us  also  has  hope  reached  ;  down 
even  to  us?  Hunger  and  hardship  are  not  to  be  eternal? 
The  bread  we  extorted  from  the  rugged  glebe,  and,  with  the 
toil  of  our  sinews,  reaped  and  ground,  and  kneaded  into  loaves, 
was  not  wholly  for  another,  then  ;  but  we  also  shall  eat  of 
it  and  be  filled?  Glorious  news  (answer  the  prudent  elders), 
but    ail-too   unlikely  I — Thus,    at   any   rate,    mny   the   loweir 


122  S  TA  TES-  GENERA  L. 

people,  who  pay  no  money  taxes  and  liave  no  right  to  vote,* 
assiduously  crowd  round  those  that  do  ;  and  most  Halls  of 
Assembly,  within  doors  and  without  seem  animated  enough. 

Paris,  alone  of  Towns,  irs  to  have  Representatives  ;  the  num- 
ber of  them  twenty.  Paris  is  divided  into  Sixty  Districts, 
each  of  which  (assembled  in  some  church  or  the  like)  is 
choosing  two  Electors.  Official  deputations  pass  from  Dis- 
trict to  District,  for  all  is  inexpei-ience  as  yet,  and  there  ia 
endless  consulting.  The  streets  swarm  strangely  with  busy 
crowds,  pacific  yet  restless  and  loquacious ;  at  intervals,  is 
seen  the  gleam  of  militaiy  muskets  ;  especially  about  the 
Palais,  where  the  Parlement,  once  more  on  duty,  sits  queru- 
lous, almost  tremulous. 

Busy  is  the  French  world  !  In  those  great  days,  what 
poorest  speculative  craftsman  but  will  leave  his  workshop  ;  if 
not  to  vote,  yet  to  assist  in  voting  ?  On  all  highways  is  a 
rustling  and  bustUng.  Over  the  wide  surface  of  France,  ever 
and  anon,  through  the  spring  months,  as  the  Sower  casts  his 
corn  abroad  upon  the  furrows,  sounds  of  congregating  and 
dispersing ;  of  crowds  in  dehberation,  acclamation,  voting  by 
ballot  and  by  voice, — rise  discrepant  towards  the  ear  of 
Heaven.  To  which  political  phenomena  add  this  economical 
one,  that  Trade  is  stagnant,  and  also  Bread  getting  dear  :  for 
before  the  rigorous  winter  there  was,  as  we  said,  a  rigorous 
summer,  with  drought,  and  on  the  13th  of  July  with  de- 
structive hail.  What  a  fearful  day !  all  cried  while  that 
tempest  fell.  Alas,  the  next  anniversary  of  it  will  be  a  worse. f 
Under  such  aspects  is  France  electing  National  Representa- 
tives. 


The  incidents  and  specialties  of  these  Elections  belong  not 
to  Universal,  but  to  Local  or  Parish  History  :  for  which 
reason  let  not  the  new  troubles  of  Grenoble  or  Besan(;on  ;  the 
bloodshed  on  the  streets  of  Rennes,  and  consequent  march 
thither  of  the  Breton  '  Young  Men '  with  Manifesto  by  their 

*  Regloment  du  Roi  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  as  above,  i.  267-307). 
f  BaUlj  :  M^moires  i.  330. 


THE  election:  123 

'  Mothers,  Sisters  and  Sweethearts  ;  '*  nor  such  like,  detain  ua 
here.  It  is  the  same  sad  history  everywhere  ;  with  su- 
perficial variations.  A  reinstated  Parlement  (as  at  Besan9on), 
which  stands  astonished  at  this  Behemoth  of  a  States-General 
it  had  itself  evoked,  starts  forward,  with  more  or  less  au- 
dacity, to  fix  a  thorn  in  its  nose  ;  and,  alas,  is  instantaneously 
struck  down,  and  hurled  quite  out, — for  the  new  popular  force 
can  use  not  only  arguments,  but  brickbats !  Or  else,  and 
perhaps  combined  with  this,  it  is  an  order  of  Noblesse  (as  in 
Brittany),  which  will  beforehand  tie  up  the  Thiixl  Estate,  that 
it  harm  not  the  old  privileges.  In  which  act  of  tying  up, 
never  so  skilfully  set  about,  there  is  likewise  no  possibility  of 
prospering  ;  but  the  Behemoth-Briareus  snaps  j-our  cords 
like  green  rushes.  Tie  up  ?  Alas,  Messieurs  !  And  then,  as 
for  your  chivalry  rapiers,  valour,  and  wager-of-battle,  think 
one  moment,  how  can  that  answer  ?  The  plebeian  heart  too 
has  red  life  in  it,  which  changes  not  to  paleness  at  glance 
even  of  you  ;  and  '  the  six  hundred  Breton  gentlemen,  assem- 
'  bled  in  arms  for  seventy-two  hours,  in  the  Cordeliers'  Clois- 
'  ter,  at  Eennes,' — have  to  come  out  again,  wiser  than  they 
entered.  For  the  Nantes  Youth,  the  Angers  Youth,  all  Biit- 
tany  was  astir  ;  'mothers,  sisters  and  sweethearts'  shrieking 
after  them,  March  !  The  Breton  Noblesse  must  even  let  the 
mad  world  have  its  way.f 

In  other  Provinces,  the  Noblesse,  with  equal  good-will,  finds 
it  better  to  stick  to  Protests,  to  well-redacted  '  Cahiers  of 
grievances,'  and  satirical  writings  and  speeches.  Such  is  par- 
tially their  course  in  Provence  ;  whither  indeed  Gabriel  Ho- 
nore  Riquetti  Comte  de  Mirabeau  has  rushed  down  from 
Paris,  to  speak  a  word  in  season.  In  Provence,  the  Privileged, 
backed  by  their  Aix  Parlement,  discover  that  such  novelties, 
enjoined  though  they  be  by  Koyal  Edict,  tend  to  national 

♦  Protestation  et  Arrets  des  Jeunes  Gens  de  la  Ville  de  Nantes,  du  28 
Janvier,  1789,  avant  leur  depart  pour  Rennes.  —  Arrcte  des  Jeunes  Gena 
de  la  Ville  d'Angers,  du  4  Fevrier,  1789.— Arrcte  des  Meres,  Soeurs, 
Epouses  et  Amantes  des  Jeunes  Citoyens  d'Angers,  du  6  Fevrier,  1789. 
(Reprinted  in  Histoire  Parlementaire.  i   290-3.) 

t  Hist.  Pari   i.  287.— DeiTx  Amis  de  la  Liberty,  i.  105-128. 


124  ST  A  TES-  GENERAL. 

detriment;  and,  what  is  still  more  indisputable,  'to  impair 
the  dignity  of  the  Noblesse.'  Whereupon  Mirabeau  protest- 
ing aloud,  this  same  Noblesse,  amid  huge  tumult  within  doors 
and  without,  flatly  determines  to  expel  him  from  their  Assem- 
bly. No  other  method,  not  even  that  of  successive  duels, 
would  answer  with  him,  the  obstreperous  fierce- glaring  man. 
Expelled  he  accordingly  is. 

'  In  all  countries,  in  aU  times,'  exclaims  he  departing,  '  the 
'  Aristocrats  have  itnplacably  pursued  every  friend  of  the  Peo- 
'  pie  ;  and  with  tenfold  implacability,  if  such  a  one  were  him- 
'self  born  of  the  Aristocracy.'  It  was  thus  that  the  last  of 
the  Gracchi  perished,  by  the  hands  of  the  Patricians.  But 
he,  being  struck  with  the  mortal  stab,  flung  dust  towards 
heaven,  and  caUed  on  the  Avenging  Deities  ;  and  from  this 
dust  there  was  born  Marius,— Marius  not  so  illustrious  for 
exterminating  the  Cimbri,  'as  for  overturning  in  Kome  the 
tyranny  of  the  Nobles.'*  Casting  up  ivhich  new  curious 
handful  of  dust  (through  the  Printing-press),  to  breed  what 
it  can  and  may,  Mirabeau  stalks  forth  into  the  Third  Estate. 

That  he  now,  to  ingratiate  himself  with  this  Third  Estate, 
'  opened  a  cloth-shop  in  Marseilles,'  and  for  moments  became 
a  furnishing  tailor,  or  even  the  fable  that  he  did  so,  is  to 
us  always  among  the  pleasant  memorabilities  of  this  era. 
Stranger  Clothier  never  wielded  the  ell-wand  ;  and  rent  webs 
for  men,  or  fractional  parts  of  men.  The  Fils  Adoptif  is  in- 
dignant at  such  disparaging  fable, f— which  nevertheless  was 
widely  believed  in  those  days.J  But  indeed,  if  Achilles,  in 
the  heroic  ages,  killed  mutton,  why  should  not  Mirabeau,  in 
the  uuheroic  ones,  measure  broadcloth  ? 

INIore  authentic  are  his  triumph-progresses  through  that 
disturbed  district,  with  mob  jubilee,  flaming  torches,  'win- 
dows  hired  for  two  louis,'  and  voluntary  guard  of  a  hundred 
men.  He  is  Deputy  Elect,  both  of  Aix  and  of  Marseilles ;  but 
will  prefer  Aix.  He  has  opened  his  far-sounding  voice,  the 
depths  of  his  far-Bounding  soul ;  he  can  quell  (such  virtue  ia 

*  Tils  Adoptif,  V.  256.  f  Mcmoires  de  Mirabean,  v.  307. 

t Marat:  Ami-du-Peulo  Newspaper  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  il 
10?.\  &c. 


THE  ELECTION.  125 

in  a  spoken  word)  the  pride-tumults  of  the  rich,  the  hung-ry- 
tumults  of  the  poor  ;  and  wild  multitudes  move  under  him, 
as  under  the  moon  do  billows  of  the  sea  ;  he  has  become  a 
world-compeller,  and  ruler  over  men. 

One  other  incident  and  specialty  we  note  ;  with  how  diifer- 
ent  an  interest !  It  is  of  the  Parlement  of  Paris  ;  which  starts 
forward,  like  the  others  (only  with  less  audacity,  seeing  bet- 
ter how  it  lay),  to  nose-ring  that  Behemoth  of  a  States-Gen- 
eral. Worthy  Doctor  Guillotin,  respectable  practitioner  in 
Paris,  has  drawn  up  his  little  '  Plan  of  a  Cahier  of  dolcancef! ; ' 
— as  had  he  not,  having  the  wish  and  gift,  the  clearest  liberty 
to  do  ?  He  is  getting  the  people  to  sign  it ;  whereupon  the 
surly  Parlement  summons  him  to  give  account  of  himself. 
He  goes  ;  but  with  all  Paris  at  his  heels  ;  which  floods  the 
outer  courts,  and  copiously  signs  the  Cahier  even  there,  while 
the  Doctor  is  giving  account  of  himself  within  !  The  Parle- 
ment cannot  too  soon  dismiss  Guillotin,  with  compliments ; 
to  be  borne  home  shoulder-high.*  This  respectable  Guillotin 
we  hope  to  behold  once  more,  and  perhaps  only  once  ;  the 
Parlement  not  even  once,  but  let  it  be  engulphed  unseen  by 
us. 

Meanwhile  such  things,  cheering  as  they  are,  tend  little  to 
cheer  the  national  creditor,  or  indeed  the  creditor  of  any 
kind.  In  the  midst  of  universal  portentious  doubt,  what 
certainty  can  seem  so  certain  as  money  in  the  piu'se,  and  the 
wisdom  of  keeping  it  there  ?  Trading  Speculation,  Commerce 
of  all  kinds,  has  as  far  as  possible  come  to  a  dead  j)aiise  ;  and 
the  hand  of  the  industrious  lies  idle  in  his  bosom.  Frightful 
enough,  when  now  the  rigor  of  seasons  has  also  done  its  part, 
and  to  scarcity  of  work  is  added  scarcity  of  food  !  In  the  open- 
ing spring,  there  come  rumors  of  forestalment,  there  come 
King's  Edicts,  Petitions  of  bakers  against  millers  ;  and  at 
length,  in  the  month  of  April, — troops  of  ragged  Lackalls, 
and  fierce  cries  of  starvation !  These  are  the  thrice-famed 
Brigands  :  an  actually  existing  quotity  of  persons  ;  who,  long 
reflected  and  reverberated  through  so  many  millions  of  heads, 
*  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberto,  i.  141. 


1 2  0  ST  A  TES-  GENERA  L. 

as  in  concave  ^multiplying  mirrors,  become  a  whole  Brigand 
World  ;  and,  like  a  kind  of  supernatural  Machinery,  won- 
drously  move  the  Epos  of  the  Revolution.  The  Brigands  are 
here ;  the  Brigands  are  there  ;  the  Brigands  are  coming ! 
Not  otherwise  sounded  the  clang  of  Phoebus  Apollo's  silver 
bow,  scattering  pestilence' and  pale  terror  :  for  this  clang  too 
•was  of  the  imagination  ;  preternatural ;  and  it  too  walked  in 
formless  immeasurability,  having  made  itaelf  like  to  the  Night 
{yvKTi  eotKws)  ! 

But  remark  at  least,  for  the  first  time,  the  singular  empire 
of  Suspicion,  in  those  lands,  in  those  days.  If  poor  famishing 
men  shall,  prior  to  death,  gather  in  groups  and  crowds,  as  the 
poor  fieldfares  and  plovers  do  in  bitter  weather,  were  it  but 
that  they  may  chirp  mournfully  together,  and  misery  look  in 
the  eyes  of  misery  ;  if  famishing  men  (what  famishing  field- 
fares cannot  do)  should  discover,  once  congregated,  that  they 
need  not  die  while  food  is  in  the  land,  since  they  are  many,  . 
and  with  empty  wallets  have  right  hands  :  in  all  this,  what 
need  were  there  of  Preternatural  Machinery?  To  most 
people  none  ;  but  not  to  French  people,  in  a  time  of  Revolu- 
tion. These  Brigands  (as  Turgot's  also  were,  fom-teen  years 
ago)  have  all  been  set  on  ;  enlisted,  though  without  tap  of 
drum,— by  Aiistocrats,  by  Democrats,  by  d'Orleans,  d'Ai-tois, 
and  enemies  of  the  pubhc  weal.  Nay  Historians,  to  this  day 
will  prove  it  by  one  argument :  these  Brigands,  pretending  to 
have  no  victual,  nevertheless  contrive  to  drink,  nay  have  been 
seen  drunk.*  An  unexampled  fact!  But  on  the  whole  may 
we  not  predict  that  a  people,  with  such  a  width  of  Creduhty 
and  of  Incredulity  (the  proper  union  of  which  makes  Suspi- 
cion, and  indeed  unreason  generally),  will  see  Shapes  enough 
of  Immortals  fighting  in  its  battle-ranks,  and  never  want  for 
Epical  IVIachinery  ? 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Brigands  are  clearly  got  to  Paris,  in 
considerable  multitudes  :  j  with  sallow  faces,  lank  hair  (the 
true  enthusiast  complexion),  with  sooty  rags  ;  and  also  with 
lai-ge  clubs,  which  they  smite  angrily  against  the  pavement ! 
these  mingled  in  the  Election  tumult ;  would  fain  sign 
♦  Lacratelle,  18me.  Siecle,  ii.  155.         f  Besenval,  iii.  385,  &c. 


GROWy  ELECTRIC.  127 

Guillotin's  Cahier,  or  any  Cahier  or  Petition  wbatsoever, 
could  they  but  write.  Their  enthusiast  complexion,  the  smit- 
ing of  their  sticks,  bodes  little  good  to  any  one  ;  least  of  all 
to  rich  master-manufactm-ers  of  the  Subm-b  Siiint-.intoine, 
\Yith  whose  workmen  they  consort. 


CHAPTER  in. 

ROWN    ELECTRIC. 


But  now  also  National  Deputies  from  all  ends  of  France  are 
in  Paris,  with  their  commissions,  what  they  call  pouvoin^,  or 
powers,  in  their  pockets  ;  inquiring,  consulting  ;  looking  out 
for  lodgings  at  Versailles.  The  States-General  shall  open 
there,  if  not  on  the  Fii'st,  then  surely  on  the  Fourth  of  May  ; 
in  grand  procession  and  gala.  The, Salle  des  lleniis  is  all  new- 
carpentered,  bedizened  for  them  ;  their  very  costume  has 
been  fixed ;  a  grand  controversy  which  there  was,  as  to 
'  slouch-hats  or  slouched-hats,'  for  the  Commons  Deputies, 
has  got  as  good  as  adjusted.  Ever  new  strangers  arrive  : 
loungers,  miscellaneous  persons,  officers  on  furlough, — as  the 
worthy  Captain  Dampmartin,  whom  we  hope  to  be  acquauited 
with  :  these  also,  from  all  regions,  have  repaired  hither,  to  see 
what  is  toward.  Our  Paris  Committees,  of  the  Sixty  Districts, 
are  busier  than  ever ;  it  is  now  too  clear,  the  Paris  Elections 
will  be  late. 

On  Monday,  the  27th  day  of  April,  Astronomer  Bailly  notices 
that  the  Sieur  Riveillon  is  not  at  his  post.  The  Sieur  Reveil- 
lon,  '  extensive  Paper  Manufacturer  of  the  Rue  Saint-Antoine  :' 
he,  commonly  so  punctual,  is  absent  from  Electoral  Committee ; 
— and  even  will  never  reappear  there.  In  those  'immense 
Magazines  of  velvet  paper,'  has  aught  befallen  ?  Alas,  yes  ! 
Alas,  it  is  no  Montgolfier  rising  there  to-day  ;  but  Dradgeiy, 
Rascality  and  the  Suburb  that  is  rising  !  Was  the  Sieur  Re- 
veillon,  himself  once  a  journeyman,  heard  to  say  that '  a  jour- 
neyman might  live  handsomely  on  fifteen  sous  a-day?'  Some 
Bevenpence  halfpenny  :  'tis  a  slender  sum  I     Or  was  he  only 


1-2S  S'rA  TES-  GENERA  L. 

thought,  and  believed,  to  be  heard  saying  it  ?  By  this  long 
chafing  and  friction,  it  would  appear,  the  National  temper 
has  got  electric. 

Down  in  those  dark  dens,  in  those  dark  heads  and  hungiy 
hearts,  who  knows  in  what  strange  figure,  the  new  Political 
Evangel  may  have  shaped  itself ;  what  miraculous  '  Com- 
munion of  Drudges '  may  be  getting  formed  !  Enough  :  grim 
individuals,  soon  waxing  to  grim  multitudes,  and  other  multi- 
tudes crowding  to  see,  beset  that  Paper-Warehouse  ;  demon- 
strate in  loud  ungrammatical  lang\iage,  (addressed  to  the  pas- 
sions too),  the  insufficiency  of  sevenpence  half  penny  a-day.  The 
City-watch  cannot  dissipate  them  ;  broils  arise  and  bellowings  : 
Keveillon,  at  his  wits'  end,  entreats  the  Populace,  entreats  the 
Authorities.  Besenval,  now  in  active  command.  Commandant 
of  Paris,  does,  towards  evening,  to  Eeveillon's  earnest  prayer, 
send  some  thirty  Gardes  Francaises.  These  clear  the  street, 
happily,  without  firing  ;  and  take  post  there  for  the  night,  in 
the  hope  that  it  may  be  all  over* 

Not  so  :  on  the  morrow  it  is  far  worse.  Saint-Antoine  has 
arisen  anew,  grimmer  than  ever  ;— reinforced  by  the  unknown 
TatterdemaHon  Figures,  with  their  enthusiast  complexion,  and 
large  sticks.  The  City,  through  all  streets,  is  flowing  thither- 
ward to  see  :  '  two  cartloads  of  paving-stones,  that  happened 
to  pass  that  way,'  have  been  seized  as  a  visible  godsend.  An- 
other detachment  of  Gardes  Fran9aises  must  be  sent ;  Besen- 
val and  the  Colonel  taking  earnest  counsel.  Then  still  anoth- 
er ;  they  hardly,  with  bayonets  and  menace  of  bvillets,  penetrate 
to  the  spot.  What  a  sight !  A  street  choked  up,  with  lumber, 
tumult  and  the  endless  press  of  men.  A  Paper- Warehouse 
eviscerated  by  axe  and  fire  ;  mad  din  of  Revolt  ;  musket-volleys 
responded  to  by  yells,  by  miscellaneous  missiles,  by  tiles  rain- 
ing from  roof  and  window, — tiles,  execrations,  and  slain  men  ! 
The  Gardes  Franf;aises  like  it  not,  but  have  to  persevere.  All 
day  it  continues,  slackening  and  rallying  ;  the  sun  is  sinking, 
and  Saint-Antoine  has  not  yielded.  The  City  flies  hither  and 
thither  :  alas,  the  sound  of  that  musket-volleying  booms  into 
the  far  dining-rooms  of  the  Chaussce  d'Antin  ;  alters  the  tone 
*  Besenval,  iii.  SS-J-S. 


GBOWX  ELECTRIC.  129 

of  the  dinner-gossip  there.  Captain  Dampniartin  leaves  his 
wine  ;  goes  out  with  a  friend  or  two,  to  see  the  fighting.  Un- 
washed men  growl  on  him,  with  murmnrs  of  "  A  has  les  Aris- 
iocrates  (Down  with  the  Aristocrats); "  and  insult  the  cross  of 
St.  Louis  !  They  elbow  him,  and  hustle  him  ;  but  do  not  pick 
his  jDOcket ; — as  indeed  at  Eeveillon's  too  there  was  not  the 
slightest  stealing.* 

At  fall  of  night,  as  the  thing  will  not  end,  Beseuval  takes 
his  resolution  ;  orders  out  the  Gardes  /Suisses  with  two  pieces 
of  artnierv.  The  Swiss  Guards  shall  proceed  thither  ;  sum- 
mon that  rabble  to  depart,  in  the  King's  name.  If  disobeyed, 
they  shall  load  their  artillery  with  grape  shot,  visibly  to  the 
general  eye  ;  shall  again  summon  ;  if  again  disobeyed,  fire, — 
and  keep  firing,  '  till  the  last  man '  be  in  this  manner  blasted  off, 
and  the  street  clear.  With  which  spirited  resolution,  as  might 
have  been  hoped,  the  business  is  got  ended.  At  the  sight  of 
the  lit  matches  of  the  foreign  red-coated  Switzers,  Saint-An- 
toine  dissipates  ;  hastily  in  the  shades  of  dusk.  There  is  an 
encumbered  street ;  there  are  '  from  four  to  five  hundred  dead 
men.  Unfortunate  Eeveillon  has  found  shelter  in  the  Bastile  ; 
does  therefrom,  safe  behind  stone  bulwarks,  issue  jjlaint,  pi'o- 
testation,  explanation,  for  the  next  month.  Bold  Besenval 
has  thanks  from  all  the  respectable  Parisian  classes  ;  but  finds 
no  special  notice  taken  of  him  at  Versailles, — a  thing  the  man 
of  true  worth  is  used  to.f 

Bvit  how  it  originated,  this  fierce  electric  sputter  and  ex- 
plosion ?  From  d'Orleans !  cries  the  Court-party  :  he,  with 
his  gold,  enlisted  these  Brigands, — surely  in  some  sm-prising 
manner,  without  sound  of  drum  :  he  raked  them  in  hither, 
from  all  corners  ;  to  ferment  and  take  fire  ;  evil  is  his  good. 
From  the  Court !  cries  enlightened  Patriotism  :  it  is  the 
cursed  gold  and  wiles  of  Aristocrats  that  enlisted  them  ;  set 
them  upon  ruining  an  innocent  Sieur  Eeveillon  ;  to  frighten 
the  faint,  and  disgust  men  with  the  career  of  Freedom. 

*  Evenemens  qui  se  soiit  passes  sous  mes  yeiix  pendant  la  Revolutioa 
Francaise,  par  A.  H.  Dampmartiu  (Berlin,  1799),  i.  25-37. 

f  Besenval,  iii.  380. 
Vol.  I.— 9 


130  ST  A  TESr  GENERAL. 

Baseuval,  with  reluctance,  concludes  that  it  came  from  '  the 
English,  our  natural  enemies.'  Or,  alas,  might  one  not  rather 
attribute  it  to  Diana  in  the  shape  of  hunger  ?  To  some  twin 
Dioscuri,  Oppression  and  Revenge  ;  so  often  seen  in  the  battles 
ot  men  ?  Poor  Lackalls,  all  betoiled,  besoiled,  encrusted  into 
dim  defacement ; — into  whom  nevertheless  the  breath  of  the 
Almighty  has  breathed  a  living  soul !  To  them  it  is  clear 
only  that  eleutheromaniac  Philosophism  has  yet  baked  no 
bread  ;  that  Patriot  Committee-men  will  level  down  to  their 
own  level,  and  no  lowei-.  Brigands,  or  whatever  they  might 
be,  it  was  bitter  earnest  with  them  :  they  buried  theu-  dead 
with  the  title  of  Defenseurs  de  la  Patrie,  Mai'tp's  of  the  good 
Cause. 

Or  shall  we  say  :  Insurrection  has  now  served  its  Appren- 
ticeship ;  and  this  was  its  proof-stroke,  and  no  inconclusive 
one  ?  Its  next  will  be  a  master-stroke ;  announcing  indis- 
putable Mastership  to  a  whole  astonished  world.  Let  that 
rock-fortress,  Tyranny's  stronghold,  which  they  name  Bastille, 
or  building,  as  if  there  were  no  other  building, — look  to  its 
guns ! 

Bat,  in  such  wise,  with  primary  and  secondary  Assemblies 
and  Gahiers  of  Grievances  ;  with  motions,  congi-egations  of  all 
kinds  ;  with  much  thunder  of  froth-eloquence,  and  at  last  with 
thunder  of  platoon-musquetiy, — does  agitated  France  accom- 
phsh  its  Elections.  With  confused  winnowing  and  sifting, 
in  this  rather  tumultous  manner,  it  has  now  (all  except  some 
remnants  of  Paris)  sifted  out  the  true  wheat-grains  of  National 
Deputies,  Twelve  Hundred  and  Fourteen  in  number ;  and  will 
forthwith  open  its  States-General. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE     PnOCESSION. 


On  the  first  -Saturday  of  May,  it  is  gala  at  Versailles  ;  and 
Monday,  foiu'th  of  the  month,  is  to  be  a  still  greater  day. 
The  Deputies  have  mostly  got  thither,  and  sought  out  lodg- 
ings ;  and  are  now  successively,  in  long  well-ushered  files, 


THE  PRO  CESSION.  ]  3 1 

kissing  the  hand  of  Majesty  in  the  Chateau.  Supreme  Usher 
de  Brcze  does  not  give  the  highest  satisfaction  :  we  cannot 
but  observe  that  in  ushering  Noblesse  or  Clergy  into  the 
anointed  Presence,  he  liberally  opens  both  his  folding-doors  ,• 
and  on  the  other  hand,  for  members  of  the  Third  Estate, 
opens  only  one !  However,  there  is  room  to  enter  ;  Majesty 
has  smiles  for  aU. 

The  good  Louis  welcomes  his  Honourable  Members  with 
smiles  of  hope.  He  has  prepared  for  them  the  Hall  of  the 
3Ienus,  the  lai-gest  near  him  ;  and  often  surveyed  the  work- 
men as  they  went  on.  A  spacious  Hall :  with  raised  platform 
for  Throne,  Court  and  Blood-royal ;  space  for  six-hundred 
Commons  Deputies  in  front ;  for  half  as  many  Clergy  on  this 
hand,  and  half  as  many  Noblesse  on  that.  It  has  lofty  gal- 
leries ;  wherefrom  dames  of  honour,  resplendent  in  gaze  d'or  ; 
foreign  Diplomacies,  and  other  gilt-edged  white-friUed  indi- 
viduals, to  the  number  of  two  thousand, — may  sit  and  look. 
Broad  passages  flow  through  it ;  and,  outside  the  inner  Avail, 
all  round  it.  There  are  committee  rooms,  guard-rooms,  rob- 
ing-rooms  :  really  a  noble  HaU,  where  upholstery,  aided  by  the 
subject  fine-arts,  has  done  its  best ;  and  crimson  tasselled 
cloths,  and  emblemoHo.  Jieurs-de-lys  are  not  Avanting. 

The  Hall  is  ready  :  the  very  costume,  as  Ave  said,  has  been 
settled  ;  and  the  Commons  are  not  to  wear  that  hated  slouch- 
hat  [chapeau  clabaud),  but  one  not  quite  so  slouched  {chapeau 
rabattu).  As  for  their  manner  of  ivorking,  when  all  dressed  ; 
for  their  '  voting  by  head  or  by  order '  and  the  rest, — this, 
Avhich  it  were  perhaps  stiU  time  to  settle,  and  in  fcAV  hours 
will  be  no  longer  time,  remains  unsettled  ;  hangs  dubious  in 
the  breast  of  Twelve  Hundred  men. 

But  noAv  finally  the  Sun,  on  Monday  the  4th  of  May,  hag 
risen  ; — unconcerned,  as  if  it  were  no  special  day.  And  yet, 
as  his  first  rays  could  strike  music  from  the  Memnon's  Statue 
on  the  Nile,  what  tones  were  these,  so  thrilling,  tremulous,  of 
preparation  and  foreboding,  Avhich  he  awoke  in  every  bosom 
at  Versailles !  Huge  Paris,  in  all  conceiA-able  and  inconceiA'- 
able  vehicles,  is  pouring  itself  forth  ;  from  each  ToAvn  and 


132  STATES- GEy Eli  AL. 

Village  come  subsidiaiy  rills  :  Versailles  is  a  very  sea  of  men. 
But  above  all,  from  the  Church  of  St  Louis  to  the  Church  of 
Notre-Dame  :  one  vast  suspended-billow  of  Life, — with  spray 
scattered  even  to  the  chimney-tops  !  For  on  chimney-tops 
too,  as  over  the  roofs,  and  up  thitherwards  on  every  lamp- 
iron,  signpost,  breakneck  coign  of  vantage,  sits  patriotic 
Courage  ;  and  every  window  bursts  with  patriotic  Beauty  : 
for  the  Deputies  are  gathering  at  St.  Louis  Chiu'ch  ;  to  march 
in  procession  to  Notre  Dame,  and  hear  sermon. 

Yes,  friends,  ye  may  sit  and  look  :  bodily  or  in  thought,  all 
France,  and  all  Europe,  may  sit  and  look  ;  for  it  is  a  day  like 
few  others.  Oh,  one  might  weep  like  Xerxes  :  So  many  ser- 
ried rows  sit  perched  there  ;  like  winged  creatures,  alighted 
out  of  Heaven :  all  these,  and  so  many  more  that  follow  them, 
shall  have  fully  fled  aloft  again,  vanishing  into  the  blue  Deep ; 
and  the  memoiy  of  this  day  stHl  be  fresh.  It  is  the  baptism 
day  of  Democracy  ;  sick  Time  has  given  it  birth,  the  num- 
bered months  being  run.  The  extreme-unction  day  of  Feu- 
dalism !  A  superannuated  System  of  Society,  decrepit  with 
toils  (for  has  it  not  done  much,  produced  ijou,  and  what  ye 
have  and  know  !)— and  with  thefts  and  brawls,  named  glori- 
ous-victories ;  and  with  profligacies,  sensualities,  and  on  the 
whole  with  dotage  and  senility,— is  now  to  die  :  and  so,  with 
death-throes  and  birth-throes,  a  new  one  is  to  be  born. 
What  a  work,  O  Earth  and  Heavens,  what  a  work  !  Battles 
and  bloodshed,  September  Massacres,  Bridges  of  Lodi,  re- 
treats of  Moscow,  Waterloos,  Peterloos,  Ten-pomid  Fran- 
chises, Tarbarrels  and  Guillotines  ; and  from  this  present 

date,  if  one  might  prophesy,  some  two  centuries  of  it  still  to 
fight!  Two  centuries;  hardly  less:  before  Democracy  go 
through  its  due  most  baleful  stages  of  QuackocrRcy  ;  and  a 
pestilential  World  be  burnt  up,  and  have  begun  to  grow 
green  and  young  again. 

Kejoice  nevertheless,  ye  Versailles  multitudes ;  to  you,  from 
whom  all  this  is  hid,  the  gloiious  end  of  it  is  visible.  This 
day,  sentence  of  death  is  pronounced  on  Shams  ;  judgment  of 
resuscitation,  were  it  but  afar  off,  is  pronounced  on  Eeahties. 
This  day,  it  is  declared  aloud,  as  with  a  Doom-trumpet,  that 


THE  PROCESSION.  '       133 

a  Lie  is  unbelievable.  Believe  tliat,  stand  by  that,  if  more 
there  be  not ;  and  let  what  thing  or  things  soever  will  follow 
it  follow.  '  Ye  can  no  other  ;  God  be  your  help  ! '  So  apake 
a  greater  than  any  of  you  ;  opening  his  Chapter  of  World- 
History. 

Behold,  however!  The  doors  of  St.  Louis  Church  flung 
wide  ;  and  the  Procession  of  Processions  advancing  towards 
Notre-Dame !  Shouts  rend  the  air ;  one  shout,  at  which 
Gi-ecian  birds  might  drop  dead.  It  is  indeed  a  stately, 
solemn  sight.  The  Elected  of  France,  and  then  the  Court  of 
France  ;  they  are  marshalled  and  march  there,  all  in  pre- 
scribed place  and  costume.  Our  Commons  'in  plain  black 
mantle  and  white  cravat ;'  Noblesse,  in  gold- worked,  bright- 
dyed  cloaks  of  velvet,  resplendent,  rustling  with  laces,  waving 
with  plumes  ;  the  Clergy  in  rochet,  alb  or  other  best  liontifi- 
calibus :  lastly  comes  the  King  himself,  and  King's  House- 
hold, also  in  their  brightest  blaze  of  pomp, — their  brightest 
and  final  one.  Some  Foui'teen  Hundred  Men  blown  together 
from  all  winds,  on  the  deepest  eiTand. 

Yes,  in  that  silent  marching  mass  there  lies  Futurity 
enough.  No  symbolic  Ark,  hke  the  old  Hebrews,  do  these 
men  bear  :  yet  with  them  too  is  a  Covenant ;  they  too  preside 
at  a  new  Era  in  the  History  of  Men.  The  whole  Future  is 
there  and  Destiny  dim-brooding  over  it ;  in  the  hearts  and 
unshaped  thoughts  of  these  men,  it  lies  illegible,  inevitable. 
Singular  to  think  :  they  have  it  in  them  ;  yet  not  they,  not 
mortal,  only  the.  Eye  above  can  read  it, — as  it  shall  unfold 
itself,  in  fire  and  thunder,  of  siege,  and  field  artillery  ;  in  the 
rustling  of  battle-banners,  the  tramp  of  hosts,  in  the  glow  of 
bui-ning  cities,  the  shriek  of  strangled  nations !  Such  things 
lie  hidden,  safe-wrapt  in  this  Fourth  day  of  May ; — say,  rather, 
had  lain  in  some  other  unknown  day,  of  which  this  latter  is 
the  public  fruit  and  outcome.  As  indeed  what  wonders  lie 
in  every  Day, — had  we  the  sight,  as  happily  we  have  not,  to 
decipher  it :  for  is  not  every  meanest  Day  '  the  conflux  of  two 
Eternities ! ' 


134:       .  STATES-GENERAL. 

Meanwhile,  suppose  we  two,  good  Reader,  should,  as  now 
without  miracle  Muse  Clio  enables  us,— take  our  station  also 
on  some  coign  of  vantage  ;  and  glance  momentarily  over  this 
Procession,  and  this  Life-sea  ;  with  far  other  eyes  than  the 

i-est  do, namely  with  prophetic  ?     We  can  mount,  and  stand 

there,  without  fear  of  falling. 

As  for  the  Life-sea,  or  onlooking  unnumbered  Multitude, 
it  is  unfortunately  ail-too  dim.  Yet  as  we  gaze  fixedly,  do 
not  nameless  Figures  not  a  few,  which  shall  not  always  be 
nameless,  disclose  themselves  ;  visible  or  presumable  there  \ 
Young  Baroness  de  Stael— she  evidently  looks  from  a  win- 
dow ;  among  older  honourable  women  *  Her  father  is  Min- 
ister, and  one  of  the  gala  personages  ;  to  his  own  eyes  the 
chief  one.  Young  spiritual  Amazon,  thy  rest  is  not  there  ; 
nor  thy  loved  Father's  :  '  as  Malebranche  saw  all  things  in 
God,  so  M.  Necker  sees  all  things  in  Necker,'— a  theorem  that 
will  not  hold. 

But  w4iere  is  the  brown-locked,  light-behaved,  fire-hearted 
Demoiselle  Theroigne?  Brown  eloquent  Beauty;  who,  with 
thy  winged  words  and  glances,  shalt  thriU  rough  bosoms, 
whole  steel  battalions,  and  persuade  an  Austrian  Kaiser,— 
pike  and  helm  he  provided  for  thee  in  due  season  ;  and,  alas, 
also  strait-waistcoat  and  long  lodging  in  the  SalpGtriere  ! 
Better  hadst  thou  staid  in  native  Luxemburg,  and  been  the 
mother  of  some  brave  man's  children  :  but  it  was  not  thy 
task,  it  was  not  thy  lot. 

Of  the  rougher  sex  how,  without  tongue,  or  hundred 
tongues  of  iron,  enumerate  the  notabilities !  Has  not  Mar- 
quis Valadi  hastily  quitted  his  Quaker  broadbrim  ;  his  Pytha- 
gorean Greek  in  Wapping,  and  the  city  of  Glasgow  ?t  De 
Morande  from  his  Courier  de  V Europe ;  Linguet  from  his  An- 
nales,  they  looked  through  the  London  fog,  and  became  Ex- 
Editors,— that  they  might  feed  the  guillotine,  and  have  their 
due.  Does  Louvet  (of  Fauhlaii)  stand  a-tiptoc?  And  Brissot, 
hight  de  Warville,  friend  of  the  Blacks?  He,  with  Marquis 
*  Madame  de  Staal :  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution  Francaise  (Lon- 
don, 1818),  i.  114-191. 

f  Founders  of  the  French  Republic  (London,  1798),  §  Valadi. 


TUE  PIIO CESSION.  135 

Condorcet,  and  Claviere  the  Genevese,  'have  created  the 
Moniteur  Newspaper,'  or  are  about  creating  it.  Able  Editors 
must  give  account  of  such  a  day. 

Or  seest  thou  with  any  distinctness,  low  down  probably,  not 
in  places  of  honour,  a  Stanislas  Maillard,  riding-tipstaff  {huis- 
sier  d  cheval)  of  the  Chatelet  ;  one  of  the  shiftiest  of  men?  A 
Captain  Hulin  of  Geneva,  Captain  Elie  of  the  Queen's  Regi- 
ment ;  both  with  an  air  of  half -pay  ?  Jourdan,  with  tile- 
coloured  whiskers,  not  yet  with  tile-beard  ;  an  unjust  dealer 
in  mules  ?  He  shall  be,  in  a  few  months,  Jourdan  the  Heads- 
man, and  have  other  work. 

Surely  also,  in  some  place  not  of  honour,  stands  or  sprawls 
up  querulous,  that  he  too,  though  short,  may  see,— one 
squalidest  bleared  mortal,  redolent  of  soot  and  horse-drugs : 
Jean  Paul  Marat  of  Neuchatel !  O  Marat,  Eenovator  of  Human 
Science,  Lecturer  on  Optics  ;  O  thou  remarkablest  Horseleech, 
once  in  d'Artois'  Stables, — as  thy  bleared  soul  looks  forth, 
through  thy  bleared,  dull-acrid,  wo-stricken  face,  what  sees  it 
in  all  this  ?  Any  faintest  light  of  hope  ;  like  dayspring  after 
Nova-Zembla  night?  Or  it  is  but  blue  sulphur  light,  and 
spectres  ;  wo,  suspicion,  revenge  without  end  ? 

or  Draper  Lecointre  how  he  shut  his  cloth-shop  hard  by, 
and  stepped  forth,  one  need  hardly  speak.  Nor  of  Santerre, 
the  sonorous  Brewer  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  Two 
other  Figures,  and  only  two,  we  signalise  there.  The  huge, 
brawny  Figure  ;  through  whose  black  brows,  and  rude  flat- 
tened face  {figure  ecrasee)  there  looks  a  waste  energy  as  of 
Hercules  not  yet  furibund, — he  is  an  esurient,  unprovided 
Advocate  ;  Danton,  by  name  :  him  mark.  Then  that  othc  •,  his 
slight-built  comrade,  and  craft-brother  ;  he  with  the  long '  '■rl- 
ing  locks  ;  with  the  face  of  dingy  blackguardism,  wondrously 
irradiated  with  genius,  as  if  a  naphtha-lamp  burnt  within  it  : 
that  Figure  is  Camille  Desmoulins.  A  fellow  of  infinite 
shrewdness,  wit,  nay  humour  ;  one  of  the  sprightliest  clearest 
souls  in  all  these  millions.  Thou  poor  Camille,  say  of  thee 
what  they  may,  it  were  but  falsehood  to  pretend  one  did  not 
almost  love  thee,  thou  headlong  lightly  sparkling  man  !  But 
the  brawny,  not  yet  furibund  Figure,  we  say,  is  Jacques  Dan* 


136  STATES-GENERAL. 

ton ;  a  name  that  shall  be  '  tolerably  known  in  the  Revolu- 
tion.' He  is  President  of  the  electoral  Cordeliers  District  at 
Paris,  or  about  to  be  it ;  and  shall  open  his  lungs  of  brass. 

We  dwell  no  longer  on  the  mixed  shouting  Multitude  :  for 
now,  behold,  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  hand  ! 

Which  of  these  Six  Hundred  individuals,  in  plain  white 
cravat,  that  have  come  up  to  regenerate  France,  might  one 
guess,  would  become  their  king  ?  For  a  king  or  leader  they, 
as  all  bodies  of  men,  must  have  :  be  then-  work  what  it  may, 
there  is  one  man  there  who,  by  character,  faculty,  position,  is 
fittest  of  all  to  do  it ;  that  man,  as  f utm-e  not  yet  elected  king, 
walks  there  among  the  rest.  He  with  the  thick  black  locks, 
will  it  be  ?  With  the  hure,  as  himself  calls  it,  or  black  hoar's- 
head,  fit  to  be  '  shaken '  as  a  senatorial  portent  ?  Through 
whose  shaggy  beetle-brows,  and  rough-hewn,  seamed,  carbun- 
cled  face,  there  look  natural  ugliness,  small-pox,  incontinence, 
bankruptcy,— and  burning  fire  of  genius  ;  like  comet-fire  glar- 
ing fuliginous  through  murkiest  confusions?  It  is  Gabriel 
Honor'e  liiqueUi  de  Mirabeau,  the  world-compeller  ;  man-ruling 
Deputy  of  Aix !  According  to  the  Baroness  de  Stael,  he  steps 
proudly  along,  though  looked  at  askance  here  ;  and  shakes 
his  black  chevelure,  or  lion's-mane  ;  as  if  prophetic  of  great 
deeds. 

Yes,  Reader,  that  is  the  T}T^)e-Frenchman  of  this  epoch  ;  as 
Voltaire  was  of  the  last.  He  is  French  in  his  aspirations,  ac- 
qiiisitions,  in  his  virtues,  in  his  vices  ;  perhaps  more  French 
than  any  other  man  ; — and  intrinsically  such  a  mass  of  man- 
hood too.  Mark  him  well.  The  National  Assembly  were  all 
different  without  that  one  ;  nay,  he  might  say  with  the  old 
Despot:  "The  National  Assembly?    I  am  that." 

Of  a  southern  chmate,  of  wild  southern  blood  :  for  the  Ri- 
quettis,  or  AiTighettis,  had  to  fly  from  Florence  and  the 
Guelfs,  long  centuries  ago,  and  settled  in  Provence  ;  where 
from  generation  to  generation  they  have  ever  approved  them- 
selves a  pecuhar  kindred  ;  irascible,  indomitable,  sharp-cut- 
ting, true  like  the  steel  they  wore  ;  of  an  intensity  and  activ- 
ity that  sometimes  verged  towards  madness,  yet  did  not  reach 


THE  rno  CESSION.  137 

it.  One  ancient  Riquetti,  in  mad  fulfilment  of  a  mad  vow, 
chains  two  Mountains  together  ;  and  the  chain,  with  its  'iron 
star  of  five  rays,'  is  still  to  be  seen.  May  not  a  modern  Ei- 
quetti  i/nchain  so  much,  and  set  it  drifting — which  also  shall 
be  seen  ? 

Destiny  has  work  for  that  swart  burly-headed  Mirabeau : 
Destiny  has  watched  over  him,  prepared  him  from  afar.  Did 
not  his  Grandfather,  stout  Gol-d' Argent  (Silver-Stock,  so  they 
named  him),  shattered  and  slashed  by  seven-and-twenty 
wounds  in  one  fell  day,  lie  sunk  together  on  the  Bridge  at 
Casano  ;  while  Prince  Eugene's  cavalry  galloped  and  regal- 
loped  over  him, — only  the  flying  serjeant  had  thrown  a  camp- 
kettle  over  that  loved  head  ;  and  Vendome,  dropping  his  sjDy- 
giass,  moaned  out,  "Mii'abeau  is  dead,  then!"  Nevertheless 
he  was  not  dead  :  he  woke  to  breath,  and  miraculous  sur- 
gery ; — for  Gabriel  was  yet  to  be.  With  his  silver  stock  he 
kept  his  scarred  head  erect,  through  long  years :  and  ^ved- 
ded  ;  and  jDroduced  tough  Marquis  Victor,  the  Friend  of  Men. 
Whereby  at  last  in  the  appointed  year  1749,  this  long-ex- 
pected rough-hewn  Gabriel  Honore  did  likewise  see  the  light ; 
roughest  lion's  whelp  ever  littered  of  that  rough  breed.  How 
the  old  lion  (for  our  old  Marquis  too  was  lionlike,  most  un- 
conquerable, kingly-genial,  most  perverse)  gazed  wondering 
on  his  offspring  :  and  determined  to  train  him  as  no  lion  had 
yet  been  !  It  is  in  vain,  O  Marquis !  This  cub,  though  thou 
slay  him  and  flay  him,  will  not  learn  to  draw  in  dogcart  of 
Political  Economy,  and  be  a  Friend  of  3Ien  ;  he  will  not  be 
Thou,  but  must  and  will  be  Himself,  another  than  Thou.  Di- 
vorce lawsuits  '  whole  family  save  one  in  prison,  and  three- 
score Lettres-de- Cachet,'  for  thy  own  sole  use,  do  but  astonish 
the  world. 

Our  luckless  Gabriel,  sinned  against  and  sinning,  has  been 
in  the  Isle  of  Ehe,  and  heard  the  Atlantic  from  his  tower  ;  in  the 
Castle  of  If,  and  heard  the  Mediterranean  at  Marseilles.  He 
has  been  in  the  Fortress  of  Joux  ;  and  forty- two  months,  with 
hardly  clothing  to  his  back,  in  the  Dungeon  of  Vincennes  ; — 
all  by  Lettre-de-  Cachet,  from  his  lion  father.  He  has  been  in 
Pontarlier  Jails  (self-constituted  j)risoner)  ;  was  noticed  ford- 


1  ,JS  STATES-  OEXERAL. 

ing  estuaries  of  the  sea  (at  low  water),  in  flight  from  the  face 
of°men.  He  has  pleaded  before  Aix  Parlenients  (to  get  back 
liis  wife)  ;  the  public  gathering  on  roofs,  to  see,  since  they 
could  not  hear  :  "  the  clatter-teeth  {claque-dents) !  "  snarls  sin- 
gular old  T^Iirabeau  ;  discerning  in  such  admu-ed  forensic  elo- 
quence nothing  but  two  clattering  jaw-bones,  and  a  head 
vacant,  sonorous,  of  the  di'um  species. 

But  as  for  Gabriel  Honore-,  in  these  strange  wayfarings, 
what  has  he  not  seen  and  tried !      From  drill-sei-jeants,  to 
prime  ministers,  to  foreign  and  domestic  booksellers,  all  man- 
ner of  men  he  has  seen.     All  manner  of  men  he  has  gained  ; 
for  at  bottom  it  is  a  social,  loving  heari,  that  wild  unconquer- 
able one  : — more  especially  all  manner  of  women.     From  the 
Archer's  Daughter  at  Samtes  to  that  fair  young  Sophie  Mad- 
ame Monnier,  whom  he  could  not  but  '  steal,'  and  be  beheaded 
for— in  effigy  !     For  indeed  hardly  since  the  Arabian  Prophet 
lay  dead  on  the  battle-field  to  All's  admiration,  was  there  seen 
sJch  a  Love-hero,  with  the  strength  of  thirty  men.     In  War, 
again,  he  has  helped  to  conquer  Corsica  ;  fought  duels,  irreg- 
ular brawls  ;  horsewhipped  calumnious  barons.      In  Litera- 
ture, he    has    written    on    Despotism,  on    Let tres-de- Cachet  ; 
Erotics  Sapphic-Werterean,  Obscenities,   Profanities ;  Books 
on  the  Prussian  Monarchy,  on  Cagliostro,  on    Calonne,  on  the 
Water  Companies  of  Faris  .—each  Book  comparable,  we  will 
say,  to    a  bituminous    alarum-fire ;    huge,   smoky,    sudden ! 
The  firepan,  the  kindhng,  the  bitumen  were  his  own  ;    but 
the  lumber,  of  rags,  old  wood  and  nameless  combustible  rub- 
bish (for  all  is  fuel  to  him),  was  gathered  from  hucksters,  and 
ass-paniers,  of  every  description  under  heaven.     \\'hereby,  in- 
deed, hucksters  enough  have  been  heard  to   exclaim  :     Out 
upon  it,  the  fire  is  mine. 

Nay,  consider  it  more  generally,  seldom  had  man  such  a 
talent  for  boiTOwing.  The  idea,  the  faculty  of  another  man 
he  can  make  his ;  the  man  himself  he  can  make  his.  "  AU 
reflex  and  echo  (toid  de  reflet  et  de  rererbre) !  "  snaris  old  Mi- 
rabeau,  who  can  see,  but  will  not.  Crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men  ! 
it  is  his  socia'ity,  his  aggi-egative  nature  ;  and  will  now  be  the 
quality  of  qualities  for  him.     Li  that  foiiy  years '  '  struggle 


THE  PROCESSIOX.  139 

against  despotism/  lie  has  gained  the  glorious  faculty  of  self- 
JieJp,  and  yet  not  lost  the  glorious  natm-al  gift  of  fellowHhip, 
of  being  helped.  Eare  union  :  this  man  can  live  self-sufficing 
— yet  lives  also  in  the  life  of  other  men  ;  can  make  men  love 
him,  work  with  him  ;  a  born  king  of  men  ! 

But  consider  fui-ther  how,  as  the  old  Marquis  still  snarls, 
he  has  "made  away  with  (/a«7(^,  swallowed)  all  Formulas  ;" 
— a  fact  which,  if  we  meditate  it,  will  in  these  days  mean 
much.  This  is  no  man  of  system,  then  ;  he  is  only  a  man  of 
instincts  and  insights.  A  man  nevertheless  who  will  glare 
fiercely  on  any  object  ;  and  see  through  it,  and  conquer  it : 
for  he  has  intellect,  he  has  will,  force  beyond  other  men.  A 
man  not  with  logic-spectacle:^ ;  but  Avith  an  eye .'  Unhappily 
without  Decalogue,  moral  Code  or  Theorem  of  any  fixed  sort ; 
yet  not  without  a  strong  living  Soul  in  him,  and  Sincerity 
there  :  a  Reality,  not  an  Artificiality',  not  a  Sham  !  And 
so  he,  having  struggled  '  forty  years  against  despotism,'  and 
'  made  away  with  all  formulas,'  shall  now  become  the  spokes- 
man of  a  nation  bent  to  do  the  same.  For  is  it  not  precisely 
the  struggle  of  France  also  to  cast  off  despotism  ;  to  make 
away  with  her  old  formulas, — having  found  them  naught, 
worn  out,  far  from  the  reality?  She  will  make  away  with 
such  formulas ; — and  even  go  bare,  if  need  be,  till  she  have 
found  new  ones.     - 

Towards  such  work,  in  such  manner,  marches  he,  this  sin- 
gular Riquetti  Mirabeau.  In  fiery  rough  figure,  with  black 
Samson-locks  under  the  slouch-hat,  he  steps  along  there.  A 
fiery  fuliginous  mass,  which  could  not  be  choked  and  smoth- 
ered, but  would  fill  all  France  with  smoke.  And  now  it  has 
got  air  ;  it  will  bm-n  its  whole  substance,  its  whole  smoke- 
atmosphere  too,  and  fill  all  France  with  flame.  Strange  lot ! 
Forty  years  of  that  smouldering,  with  foul  fire-damp  and  va- 
pour enough  ;  then  victory  over  that  ; — and  like  a  burning 
mountain  he  blazes  heaven-high  ;  and  for  twenty-three  re- 
splendent months,  pours  out,  in  flame  and  molten  fire-tor- 
rents, all  that  is  in  him,  the  Pharos  and  Wonder-sign  of  an 
amazed  Europe  ; — and  then  lies  hollow,  cold  forever !  Pass 
on,  thou  questionable  Gabriel  Honore,  the  greatest  of  them 


140  STATES-GENERAL. 

all ;  in  the  whole  National  Deputies,  in  the  whole  Nation, 
there  is  none  hke  and  none  second  to  thee. 

But  now  if  IVIirabeau  is  the  greatest,  who  of  these  Six  Hun- 
dred may  be  the  meanest  ?  Shall  we  say,  that  anxious,  slight, 
ineffectual-looking  man,  under  thu'ty,  in  spectacles  ;  his  eyes 
(were  the  glasses  offj  troubled,  cai-eful ;  with  upturned  face, 
snuffing  dimly  the  uncertain  future  time  ;  complexion  of  a 
multiplex  atrabiliar  colour,  the  final  shade  of  which  may  be 
the  pale  sea-green  ?  *  That  greenish  coloui'ed  (cerddtre)  indi- 
vidual is  an  Advocate  of  Arras  ;  his  name  is  Jlaxiinilien  Robes- 
pierre. The  son  of  an  Advocate  ;  his  father  founded  mason- 
lodges  under  Charles  Edward,  the  English  Prince  or  Pretender, 
MaximiUen  the  first-born  was  thriftily  educated  ;  he  had  brisk 
Camille  Desmouhus  for  school-mate  in  the  college  of  Louis  le 
Grand,  at  Paris.  But  he  begged  our  famed  Necklace-Cardinal, 
Eohan,  the  patron,  to  let  him  depart  thence,  and  resign  in  fa- 
vour- of  a  younger  brother.  The  strict-minded  Max  departed  ; 
home  to  paternal  Arras  ;  and  even  had  a  Law-case  there  and 
peaded,  not  unsuccessfully,  '  in  favom-  of  the  first  Franklin 
thunder-rod.'  With  a  strict  painful  mind,  an  understanding 
small  but  clear  and  ready,  he  grew  in  favour  with  official  per- 
sons, who  coidd  forsee  in  him  an  excellent  man  of  business, 
happily  quite  free  from  genius.  The  Bishop,  therefore,  taking 
counsel,  appoints  him  Judge  of  his  diocese  ;  and  he  faithfully 
does  justice  to  the  people  :  till  behold,  one  day,  a  culprit 
comes  whose  crime  merits  hanging  ;  and  the  strict-minded 
Max  must  abdicate,  for  his  conscience  will  not  permit  the 
dooming  of  any  son  of  Adam  to  die.  A  strict-minded,  strait- 
laced  man  !  A  man  unfit  for  Kevolutions  ?  Whose  small  soul, 
transparent  wholesome-looking  as  small  ale,  could  by  no  chance 
ferment  into  virulent  alegar, — the  mother  of  ever  new  alegar ; 
till  all  France  were  grown  acetous  virulent  ?     We  shall  see. 

Between  which  two  extremes  of  grandest  and  meanest,  so 
many  grand  and  mean  roll  on,  towards  their  several  destinies, 
in  that  Procession  !  There  is  CazaV.s,  the  learned  young  sol- 
dier ;  who  shall  become  the  eloquent  orator  of  Eoyalism,  and 

*  See  De  Stael,  Cousidoratious  Ji.  142).     Barbaroux,  Memoires,  &c. 


THE  PROCESSION.  141 

earn  the  shadow  of  a  name.  Experienced  Mounier,  expe- 
rienced Malouet ;  whose  Presidential  Parlementary  experience 
the  stream  of  things  shall  soon  leave  stranded.  A  Petion  has 
left  his  gown  and  briefs  at  Chartres  for  a  stormier  sort  of 
pleading ;  has  not  forgotten  his  viohn,  being  still  fond  of  music. 
His  hair  is  gi-izzled,  though  he  is  still  young  :  convictions,  be- 
liefs j)lacid-unalterable  are  in  that  man  :  not  hindmost  of  them, 
belief  in  himself.  A  Protestant-clerical  Rabaut-St.-Etienne,  a 
slender  young  eloquent  and  vehement  Barnave,  will  help  to 
regenerate  France.  There  are  so  many  of  them  young.  Till 
thu'ty  the  Spartans  did  not  suffer  a  man  to  many  :  but  how 
many  men  here  under  thirty  ;  coming  to  produce  not  one  suf- 
ficient citizen,  but  a  nation  and  a  w^orld  of  such !  The  old  to 
heal  up  rents  ;  the  young  to  remove  rubbish  : — which  latter  is 
it  not,  indeed,  the  task  here  ? 

Dim,  formless,  from  this  distance,  yet  authentically  there, 
thou  noticest  the  Deputies  from  Nantes  ?  To  us  mere  clothes- 
screens,  with  slouch-hat  and  cloak,  but  bearing  in  their  pocket 
a  Cahier  of  doleances  with  this  singular  clause,  and  more  sucIj, 
in  it :  That  the  master  '  wigmakers  of  Nantes  be  not  troubled 
'  with  new  gild  brethren,  the  actually  existing  number  of  ninety- 
'  two  being  more  than  sufficient  ! '  *  The  Eennes  people  have 
elected  Farmer  Gerard  ;  '  a  man  of  natural  sense  and  rectitude, 
without  any  learning.'  He  walks  there,  with  solid  step  ; 
unique,  '  in  liis  rustic  farmer-clothes  ; '  which  he  will  wear 
always  ;  cai-eless  of  short-cloaks  and  costumes.  The  name  Ge- 
rard, or '  Pere  Gerard,  Father  Gerai-d,'  as  they  please  to  call  him, 
will  fly  far  ;  borne  about  in  endless  banter  ;  in  RoyaUst  satires, 
in  Repubhcan  didactic  Almanacks. f  As  for  the  man  Gerard, 
being  asked  once,  what  he  did,  after  a  trial  of  it,  candidly 
think  of  this  Parlementary  work, — "I  think,"  answered  he, 
"  that  there  are  a  good  many  scoundrels  among  us."  So  walks 
Father  Gerard  ;  solid  in  his  thick  shoes,  whithsoever   bound. 

And  worth}'^  Doctor  Guillotin,  whom  we  hoped  to  behold  one 
other  time  ?     If  not  here,  the  Doctor  should  be  here,  and  v.e 

*  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  335. 

t  Actes  des  Apitres  (by  Peltier  and  otliers) ;  Almauacli  du  Pere  Gerard 
(by  Collot  d'Herbois),  &c.  &c. 


142  ST  A  TES-  G  EN  ERA  L. 

see  him  witli  the  eye  of  prophecy  :  for  indeed  the  Parisian 
Deputies  are  all  a  little  late.  Singailar  Guillotin,  respectable 
practitioner,  doomed  by  a  satiric  destiny  to  the  strangest  im- 
mortal glory  that  ever  kept  obscure  mortal  from  his  resting- 
place,  the  bosom  of  oblivion!  Guillotin  can  improve  the 
ventilation  of  the  Hall ;  in  all  cases  of  medical  police  and 
hyrjihie,  be  a  present  aid :  but,  greater  far,  he  can  j)roduce 
his  '  Eeport  on  the  Penal  Code  ; '  and  reveal  therein  a  cun- 
ningly devised  Beheading  Machine,  which  shall  become 
famous  and  world-famous.  This  is  the  product  of  Guillotin's 
endeavors,  gained  not  Avithout  meditation  and  reading  ;  which 
product  popular  gratitude  or  levity  christens  by  a  feminine 
derivative  name,  as  if  it  were  his  daughter:  La  Guillotine! 
"  With  my  machine.  Messieurs,  I  whisk  off  your  head  {vousfais 
"sauter  la  ttte)  in  a  twinkling,  and  you  have  no  pain;" — 
whereat  they  all  laugh.*  Unfortunate  Doctor  !  For  two-and- 
twenty  years  he,  unguillotined,  shall  hear  nothing  but  guil- 
lotine, see  nothing  but  guillotine  ;  then  dying  shall  through 
long  centuries  wander,  as  it  were,  a  disconsolate  ghost,  on  the 
wrong  side  of  Styx  and  Lethe  ;  his  name  like  to  outlive 
Caesar's. 

See  Bailly,  likewise  of  Paris,  time-honored  Historian  of 
Astronomy,  Ancient  and  Modern.  Poor  Bailly,  how  thy 
serenely  beautiful  Philosophising,  with  its  soft  moonshiny 
clearness  and  thinness,  ends  in  foul  thick  confusion — of  Presi- 
dency, Mayorship,  diplomatic  Officiality,  rabid  Triviality,  and 
the  throat  of  everlasting  darkness !  Far  was  it  to  descend 
from  the  heavenly  Galaxy  to  the  Drapeau  Rouge :  beside  that 
fatal  dung-heap,  on  that  last  hell-day,  thou  must  'tremble,' 
though  only  with  cold,  'defroicl'  Speculation  is  not  prac- 
tice :  to  be  weak  is  not  so  miserable  ;  but  to  be  weaker  than 
our  task.  Wo  the  day  when  they  mounted  thee,  a  j^eaceable 
pedestrian,  on  that  wild  Hippogryff  of  a  Democracy  ;  which, 
spurning  the  firm  earth,  nay  lashing  at  the  very  stars,  no  yet 
known  Astolpho  could  have  ridden  ! 

In  the  Commons  Deputies  there  are  Merchants,  Artists, 
*  Monitetir  Newspaper,  of  December  1st,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlemen- 
taire). 


THE  PROCESSION.  143 

Men  of  Letters  ;  three  limidrecT  and  seventy-four  Lawyers  ;  * 
and  at  least  one  Clergyman  :  the  Abbe  Sieyef^.  Him  also 
Paris  sends,  among  its  twenty.  Behold  him,  the  light  thin 
man  ;  cold,  but  elastic,  wiry ;  instinct  with  the  pride  of 
Logic  ;  passionless,  or  with  but  one  passion,  that  of  self- 
conceit.  If  indeed  that  can  be  called  a  passion,  which,  in  its 
independent  concentrated  gTeatness,  seems  to  have  soared 
into  transcendentalism  ;  and  to  sit  there  with  a  kind  of  god- 
like indifference,  and  look  down  on  passion  !  He  is  the  man, 
and  wisdom  shall  die  with  him.  This  is  the  Sieyes  who  shall 
be  System-builder,  Constitution-builder  General;  and  build 
Constitutions  (as  many  as  wanted)  skyhigh, — which  shall  all 
unfortunately  fall  before  he  get  the  scaffolding  away.  "  La 
Politique,"  said  he  to  Dumont,  "Polity  is  a  science  I  think  I 
have  completed  (achevee)."  f  What  things,  O  Sieyes,  with  thy 
clear  assiduous  eyes,  art  thou  to  see  !  But  were  it  not 
curious  to  know  how  Sieyes,  now  in  these  days  (for  he  is  said 
to  be  still  alive)  |  looks  out  on  all  that  Constitution  masonry, 
through  the  rheumy  soberness  of  extreme  age  ?  Might  we 
hope,  still  with  the  old  in-efragable  transcendentalism  ?  The 
victorious  cause  pleased  the  gods,  the  vanquished  one  j^leased 
Sieyes  (victa  Catoni). 

Thus,  however,  amid  skyrending  xnvats,  and  blessings  from 
every  heart,  has  the  Procession  of  the  Commons  Deputies 
rolled  by. 

Next  follow  the  Noblesse,  and  next  the  Clergy  ;  concerning 
both  of  whom  it  might  be  asked,  What  they  specially  have 
come  for  ?  Specially',  little  as  they  dream  of  it,  to  answer  this 
question,  put  in  a  voice  of  thunder :  What  are  jon  doing  in 
God's  fair  Earth  and  Task-garden  ;  where  whosoever  is  not 
working  is  begging  or  stealing?  Wo,  wo  to  themselves  and 
to  aU,  if  they  can  only  answer  :  Collecting  tithes.  Preserving 
game  ! — Remark,  meanwhile,  how  d' Orleans  affects  to  step 
before  his  own  Order,  and  mingle  with  the  Commons.  For 
him  are  vivats:  few  for  the  rest,  though  all  wave  in  plumed 

*  Bouill6:  Memoires  sur  la  Revolution  Francaise  (London,  1797),  i.  68. 
f  Duniout :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p  64.  %  A.  D,  1834. 


144  STATES-GENERAL. 

'hats  of  fi  feudal  cut,'  and  have  sword  on  thigh;  thouj^ 
among  them  is  d'Antraiguei<,  the  young  Languedocian  gentle- 
man,— and  indeed  many  a  Peer  more  or  less  note-woi'thy. 

There  are  Liancourt  and  La  Rochefnucault ;  the  liberal  An- 
glomaniac  Dukes.  There  is  a  filially  pious  Lolly ;  a  couple  of 
hberal  Lametli^.  Above  all,  there  is  a  Lafayette ;  whose  name 
shall  be  Cromwell-Grandison,  and  fill  the  world.  Many  a 
'  formula '  has  this  Lafayette  too  made  awaj^  with  ;  yet  not  all 
formulas.  He  sticks  by  the  Washington-formula  ;  and  by 
that  he  will  stick  ; — and  hang  by  it,  as  by  sure  bower-anchor 
hangs  and  swings  the  tight  war-ship,  which,  after  all  changes 
of  wildest  weather  and  water,  is  found  still  hanging.  Happy 
for  him  ;  be  it  glorious  or  not !  Alone  of  all  Frenchmen  he 
has  a  theory  of  the  world,  and  right  mind  to  conform  thereto ; 
he  can  become  a  hero  and  perfect  character,  were  it  but  the 
hero  of  one  idea.  Note  further  our  old  ParliamentaiT  friend, 
Crisipia-Cataline  d' Espremenil.  He  is  returned  from  the 
Mediten-anean  Islands,  a  redhot  royalist,  repentant  to  the 
finger-ends  ;  unsettled  looking ;  whose  light,  duskj'-glowing 
at  best,  now  flickers  foul  in  the  socket ;  whom  the  National 
Assembly  will  by  and  by,  to  save  time,  '  regard  as  in  a  state  of 
distraction.'  Note  lastly  that  globular  Younger  Mii-abeau ; 
indignant  that  his  elder  Brother  is  among  the  Commons  :  it  is 
Viscomte  IVIirabeau;  named  oftener  Mirabeau  Tonneau  (BaiTel 
]\Iu-abeau),  on  account  of  his  I'otundity,  and  the  C[uantities  of 
strong  liquor  he  contains. 

There  then  walks  om*  French  Noblesse.  AU  in  the  old 
pomp  of  chivalry :  and  yet,  alas,  how  changed  from  the  old 
position  ;  drifted  far  down  from  their  native  latitude,  like 
Arctic  icebergs  got  into  the  Equatorial  sea,  and  fast  thawing 
there !  Once  these  Chivalry  Duces  (Dukes,  as  they  are  still 
named)  did  actually  lead  the  world, — were  it  only  towards 
battle-spoil,  where  lay  the  world's  best  wages  then  :  moreover, 
being  the  ablest  Leaders  going,  they  had  their  hon's  share, 
those  Duces ;  which  none  could  giiidge  them.  But  now, 
when  so  many  Looms,  improved  Ploughshares,  Steam  Engines 
and  Bills  of  Exchange  have  been  invented  ;  and,  for  battle- 
brawling  itself,  men  hire  Diill-Serjeants  at  eighteen-pence  a* 


THE  PROCESSION.  145 

day, — what  mean  these  goldmantled  Chivalry  Figures,  walk- 
ing there  '  in  black  velvet  cloaks,'  in  high-plumed  '  hats  of  a 
feudal  cut '  ?     Keeds  shaken  in  the  wind  ! 

The  Clergy  have  got  up ;  with  Cahiers  for  abolishing 
pluralities,  enforcing  residence  of  bishops,  better  payment  of 
tithes.*  The  Dignitaries,  we  can  observe,  walk  stately,  apart 
from  the  numerous  Undignified, — who  indeed,  are  projoerly 
little  other  than  Commons  disguised  in  Curate-fi'ocks.  Here, 
however,  though  by  strange  ways,  shall  the  Precept  be  ful- 
filled, and  they  that  are  greatest  (much  to  their  astonishment) 
become  least.  For  one  example,  out  of  many,  mark  that 
plausible  Gregoire  :  one  day  Cure  Gregoire  shall  be  a  Bishop, 
when  the  now  stately  are  wandering  distracted,  as  Bishops  in 
partibus.  With  other  thought,  mark  also  the  Ahhe  Maury ; 
his  broad  bold  face  ;  mouth  accurately  primmed  ;  full  eyes, 
that  ray  out  intelligence,  falsehood, — the  sort  of  soj^histry 
which  is  astonished  you  should  find  it  soj)histical.  Skilfullest 
vamper  up  of  old  rotten  leather,  to  make  it  look  like  new  ; 
always  a  rising  man  ;  he  used  to  tell  Mercier,  "You  will  see  ; 
I  shall  be  in  the  Academy  before  you."-j-  Likely,  indeed,  thou 
skilfullest  Maury  ;  nay,  thou  shalt  have  a  Cardinal's  Hat,  and 
plush  and  glory ;  but  alas,  also,  in  the  long  run — mere  ob- 
livion, like  the  rest  of  us  ;  and  six  feet  of  earth  !  What  boots 
it,  vamping  rotten  leather  on  these  terms  ?  Glorious  in  com- 
parison is  the  livelihood  thy  good  old  Father  earns,  by  making 
shoes, — one  may  hope,  in  a  sufficient  manner.  Maury  does 
not  want  for  audacity.  He  shall  wear  pistols,  by  and  by  ; 
and,  at  death-cries  of  "La  Lanterne,  the  Lamp-iron!" — an- 
swer coolly  :  ''  Friends,  will  you  see  better  there  ?" 

But  yonder,  halting  lamely  along  thou  noticest  next  Bishop 
Talleyraiid-Perigord,  his  Eeverence  of  Autun.  A  sardonic 
grimness  lies  in  that  irreverend  Reverence  of  Autun.  He  will 
do  and  suffer  strange  things  ;  and  will  become  surely  one  of 
the  strangest  things  ever  seen,  or  like  to  be  seen.  A  man 
living  in  falsehood,  and  on  falsehood  ;  yet  not  what  you  can 
call  a  false  man  :  there  is  the  specialty  !  It  will  be  an  enigma 
*  Hist.  Pari.  i.  322-27.  f  Mercier  :   Nouveau  Paris. 

Vol.  I.— 10 


1 46  57'.  1 TES-  G  ENEllA  L. 

for  future  ages,  one  may  hope :  liitherfco  such  a  product  oi 
Natui*e  and  Art  was  possible  only  for  this  age  of  ours,  —Age 
of  Pixper,  and  of  the  Burning  of  Paper.  Consider  Bishop 
Talleyrand  and  Marquis  Lafayette  as  the  topmost  of  their  two 
kinds  ;  and  say  once  more,  looking  at  what  they  did  and  what 
they  were,  0  Tempus  ferax  rerum  ! 

On  the  whole,  however,  has  not  this  unfortunate  Clei'gy  also 
drifted  in  the  Time-stream,  far  from  its  native  latitude  ?  An 
anomalous  mass  of  men  ;  of  whom  the  whole  world  has  al- 
ready a  dim  understanding  that  it  can  understand  nothing. 
They  were  once  a  Priesthood,  interpreters  of  Wisdom,  reveal- 
ers  of  the  Holy  that  is  in  Man  ;  a  true  Cferw.s  (or  Inheritance 
of  God  on  Earth)  ;  but  now  ? — They  pass  silently,  with  such 
Cahiers  as  they  have  been  able  to  redact ;  and  none  cries, 
God  bless  them. 

King  Louis  with  his  Court  brings  up  the  rear  :  he  cheerful, 
in  this  day  of  hope,  is  saluted  with  plaudits  ;  still  more  Necker 
his  Minister.  Not  so  the  Queen  ;  on  whom  hope  shines  not 
steadily  any  more.  El-fated  Queen  !  Her  hair  is  already 
gra}'  with  many  cares  and  crosses ;  her  firstborn  son  is  dying 
in  these  weeks  :  black  falsehood  has  ineffaceably  soiled  her 
name  ;  ineffaceably  while  this  generation  lasts.  Instead  of 
Vive  la  Reine,  voices  insult  her  with  Vive  d'Orleans.  Of  her 
queenly  beauty  little  remains  except  its  stateliness  ;  not  noAV 
gracious,  but  haughty,  rigid,  silently  enduring.  With  a  most 
mixed  feeling,  wherein  joy  has  no  part,  she  resigns  herself  to 
a  day  she  hoped  never  to  have  seen.  Poor  Marie  Antoinette  ; 
with  thy  quick  noble  instincts  ;  vehement  glancings,  vision  ail- 
too  fitful  narrow  for  the  work  thou  hast  to  do  !  O  there  are 
tears  in  store  for  thee  ;  bitterest  wailings,  soft  womanly  melt- 
ings, though  thou  hast  the  heart  of  an  imperial  Theresa's 
Daughter.     Thou  doomed  one,  shut  thy  eyes  on  the  future  ! — 

And  so,  in  stately  Procession,  have  passed  the  Elected  of 
France.  Some  towards  honour  and  quickfire  consummation  ; 
most  towards  dishonour  ;  not  a  few  towards  massacre,  con- 
fusion, emigration,  desjieration  :    all  towards  Eternity  ! — So 


THE  PROCESSION.  147 

many  Leterogeneities  cast  together  into  the  fermenting- vat ; 
there,  with  incalculable  action,  counteraction,  elective  affinities, 
ex2:)losive  developements,  to  Avork  out  healing  for  a  sick  mori- 
bund System  of  Society  !  Probably  the  strangest  Body  of 
Men,  if  we  consider  well,  that  ever  met  together  on  our  Planet 
on  such  an  errand.  So  thousandfold  comjolex  a  Socieiy,  ready 
to  burst  up  from  its  infinite  depths  ;  and  these  men,  its  rulers 
and  healers,  without  life-rule  for  themselves,— other  life-rule 
than  a  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques !  To  the  wisest  of 
them,  what  we  must  call  the  wisest,  man  is  properly  an  Acci- 
dent under  the  sky.  Man  is  without  Duty  round  him  ;  ex- 
cept it  be  '  to  make  the  Constitution.'  He  is  without  Heaven 
above  him,  or  Hell  beneath  him  ;  he  has  no  God  in  the  Avorld. 

What  further  or  better  belief  can  be  said  to  exist  in  these 
Twelve  Hundred  ?  Belief  in  high-plumed  hats  of  a  feudal  cut ; 
in  heraldic  scutcheons  ;  in  the  divine  right  of  Kings,  in  the  di- 
vine right  of  Game-destroyers.  Belief,  or  what  is  still  worse, 
canting  half-belief  ;  or  worst  of  all,  mere  Machiavelic  pretence- 
of-belief, — in  consecrated  dough-wafers,  and  the  godhood  of  a 
poor  old  Italian  Man  !  Nevertheless  in  that  immeasurable 
Confusion  and  Corruption,  which  struggles  there  so  blindly 
to  become  less  confused  and  corrupt,  there  is,  as  we  said,  this 
one  salient-point  of  a  New  Life  discernible  :  the  deep  fixed 
Determination  to  have  done  with  Shams.  A  determination, 
which,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  is  fixed ;  which  waxes 
ever  more  fixed,  into  very  madness  and  fixed-idea ;  Avhich  in 
such  embodiment  as  lies  provided  there,  shall  now  unfold  it- 
self rapidly  :  monstrous,  stupendous,  unspeakable  ;  new  for 
long  thousands  of  years  ! — How  has  the  Heaven's  light,  often- 
times in  this  earth,  to  clothe  itself  in  thunder  and  electric 
murkiness  ;  and  descend  as  molten  lightning,  blasting,  if  puri- 
fying!  Nay,  is  it  not  rather  the  very  murkiness,  and  atmo- 
spheric suffocation,  that  hringa  the  lig4itning  and  the  light? 
The  new  Evangel,  as  the  old  had  been,  was  it  to  be  born  in 
the  Destruction  of  a  World  ? 

But  how  the  deputies  assisted  at  High  Mass  and  heard  ser- 
mon, and  applauded  the  preacher,  church  as  it  was,  when  he 
preached  politics ;  how,  next  day,  with  sustained  pomp,  they 


1 48  STA  TES-  GENERA  L. 

are  for  the  first  time,  installed  in  their  Salle  de  Menus  (Hall 
no  longer  of  Amuseiiient)<),  and  become  a  States-General, — 
readers  can  fancy  for  themselves.  The  King  from  his  edrade, 
gorgeous  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  runs  his  eye  over  that 
majestic  Hall :  many-plumed,  many-glancing ;  bright-tinted 
as  rainbow,  in  the  galleries  and  near  side-si^aces,  where  Beauty 
sits  raining  bright  influence.  Satisfaction,  as  of  one  that  after 
long  voyaging  had  got  to  port,  plays  over  his  broad  simple 
face  :  the  innocent  King !  He  rises  and  speaks,  with  sono- 
rous tone,  a  conceivable  speech.  With  which,  still  more  with 
the  succeeding  one-hour  and  two-hours  speeches  of  Garde- 
des-Sceaux  and  M.  Necker,  full  of  nothing  but  patriotism, 
hope,  faith,  and  deficiency  of  the  revenue, — no  reader  of  these 
pages  shall  be  tried. 

We  remark  only  that,  as  his  Majesty,  on  finishing  the  speech, 
put  on  his  plumed  hat,  and  the  Noblesse  according  to  custom 
imitated  him,  our  Tiers-Etat  Deputies  did  mostly,  not  without 
a  shade  of  fierceness,  in  like  manner  clap  on,  and  even  crush  on 
their  slouched  hats ;  and  stand  there  awaiting  the  issue.'--  Thick 
buzz  among  them,  between  majority  and  minority  of  Couvrez- 
vous,  Decouvrez-vous  (Hats  off,  Hats  on) !  To  which  his  Maj- 
esty puts  end,  by  taking  of  his  own  royal  hat  again. 

The  session  terminates  mthout  further  accident  or  omen  than 
this  ;  with  which,  significantly  enough,  France  has  opened  her 
States-General. 

*  Histoire  Parlemeutaire,  (i.  356) ; — Mercier :  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 


BOOK  Y. 
THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 


CHAPTEK  I. 


That  exasperated  France,  in  this  same  National  Assembly  of 
hers,  has  got  something,  nay  something  great,  momentous,  in- 
dispensable, cannot  be  doubted  ;  yet  still  the  question  were  : 
Specially  what  f  A  question  hard  to  solve,  even  for  calm  on- 
lookers at  this  distance  ;  wholly  insoluble  to  actors  in  the  mid- 
dle of  it.  The  States-General,  created  and  conflated  by  the 
passionate  effort  of  the  whole  Nation,  is  there  as  a  thing  high 
and  lifted  up.  Hope,  jubilating,  cries  aloud  that  it  will  prove 
a  miraculous  Brazen  Serpent  in  the  Wilderness  ;  whereon 
whosoever  looks,  with  faith  and  obedience,  shall  be  healed  of 
all  woes  and  serpent-bites. 

We  may  answer,  it  will  at  least  prove  a  symbolic  Banner  ; 
round  which  the  exasperated  complaining  Twenty-five  Mill- 
ions, otherways  isolated  and  without  power,  may  rally,  and 
work — what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  If  battle  must  be  the  work, 
as  one  cannot  help  expecting,  then  shall  it  be  a  battle-banner 
(say,  an  Itahan  Gonfalon,  in  its  old  RepubHcan  Carroccio)  ; 
and  shall  tower  up,  car-borne,  shining  in  the  wind  :  and  with 
iron-tongue  peal  forth  many  a  signal.  A  thing  of  prime  ne- 
cessity ;  which  whether  in  the  van  or  in  the  centre,  whether 
leading  or  led  and  driven,  must  do  the  fighting  multitude  in- 
calculable services.  For  a  season,  while  it  floats  in  •  the  very 
front,  nay  as  it  were,  stands  solitary  there,  waiting  whether 
force  wiU  gather  round  it,  this  same  National  Carroccio,  and 
the  signal-peals  it  rings,  are  a  main  object  with  us. 


150  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

The  omen  of  the  '  slouch-hats  clapt  on '  shows  the  Commons 
Deputies  to  have  made  up  then-  minds  on  one  thing  :  tbat 
neither  Noblesse  nor  Clergy  shall  have  precedence  of  them  ; 
hardly  even  Majesty  itself.  To  such  length  has  the  Contrat 
/Social,  and  force  of  pubhc  opinion,  carried  us.  For  what 
is  Majesty  but  the  Delegate  of  the  Nation  ;  delegated,  and  bar- 
gained with  (even  rather  tightly),— in  some  very  singular  post- 
ure of  affairs,  which  Jean  Jacques  has  not  fixed  the  date  of  ? 

Coming  therefore  into  their  Hall,  on  the  morrow,  an  inor- 
ganic mass  of  Six  Hundred  individuals,  these  Commons  Dep- 
uties perceive,  without  terroi',  that  they  have  it  all  to  them- 
selves. Their  Hall  is  also  the  Grand  or  general  Hall  for  all 
the  Three  Orders.  But  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  it  would 
seem,  have  retired  to  their  two  separate  Apartments,  or  Halls  ; 
and  are  there  '  verifying  their  powers,'  not  in  a  conjoint  but  in 
a  separate  capacity.  They  are  to  constitute  two  separate,  per- 
haps separately-- voting  Orders,  then  ?  It  is  as  if  both  Noblesse 
and  Clergy  had  silently  taken  for  granted  that  they  already 
were  such !  Two  Orders  against  one  ;  and  so  the  Third  Order 
to  be  left  in  a  perpetual  minority  ? 

Much  may  remain  unfixed  ;  but  the  negative  of  that  is  a 
thing  fixed  :  in  the  Slouch-hatted  heads,  in  the  French  Na- 
tion's head.  Double  representation,  and  all  else  hitherto 
gained,  were  otherwise  futile,  null.  Doubtless,  the  '  powers 
must  be  verified  ; ' — dovibtless,  the  Commission,  the  electoral 
Documents  of  your  Deputy  must  be  inspected  by  his  brother 
Deputies,  and  found  valid  :  it  is  the  preliminarj'  of  all.  Neither 
is  this  question,  of  doing  it  separately  or  doing  it  conjointly, 
a  vital  one  :  but  if  it  lead  to  such  ?  It  must  be  resisted  ;  wise 
was  that  maxim.  Resist  the  beginnings  !  Nay,  were  resistance 
unadvisable,  even  dangerous,  yet  surely  pause  is  very  natural : 
pause,  with  Twenty-five  Millions  behind  you,  may  become  re- 
sistance enough. — The  inorganic  mass  of  Commons  DeiDuties 
will  restrict  itself  to  a  '  system  of  inertia,'  and  for  the  present 
remain  inorganic. 

Such  method,  recommendable  alike  to  sagacity  and  to  ti- 
midity, do  the  Commons  Deputies  adopt ;  and,  not  without 


INERTIA.  151 

adroitness,  and  with  evei-  moi-e  tenacity,  they  persist  in  it,  day 
after  day,  week  after  week.  For  six  weeks  their  history  is  of 
the  kiud  named  barren  ;  which  indeed,  as  Philosophy  knows, 
is  often  the  fruitfuhest  of  ah.  These  were  their  still  creation- 
days  ;  wherein  they  sat  incubating !  In  fact,  what  they  did 
was  to  do  nothing,  in  a  judicious  manner.  Daily  the  inorganic 
body  reassembles,  regrets  that  they  cannot  get  organisation, 
'verification  of  powers  in  common,'  and  begin  regenerating 
Prance.  Headlong  motions  may  be  made,  but  let  such  be 
repressed  ;  inertia  alone  is  at  once  unpunishable  and  uncon- 
querable. 

Cunning  must  be  met  by  cunning  ;  proud  pretension  by 
inertia,  by  a  low  tone  of  patriotic  sorrow  ;  low,  but  incurable, 
unalterable.  Wise  as  serpents  ;  harmless  as  doves :  what  a 
spectacle  for  France  !  Six  Hundred  inorganic  individuals,  es- 
sential for  its  regeneration  and  salvation,  sit  there,  on  their 
elliptic  benches,  longing  passionately  towards  life  ;  in  painful 
durance  ;  like  souls  waiting  to  be  born.  Speeches  are  spoken  i 
eloquent ;  audible  within  doors  and  without.  Mind  agitate." 
itself  against  mind  ;  the  Nation  looks  on  with  ever  deeper 
interest.     Thus  do  the  Commons  DejDuties  sit  incubating. 

There  are  priv.ite  conclaves,  supper-parties,  consultations  ; 
Breton  Club,  Club  of  Virofiay  ;  germs  of  many  Clubs.  Wholly 
au  element  of  confused  noise,  dimness,  angry  heat ; — wherein, 
however,  the  Eros-egg,  kept  at  the  fit  temperature,  may  hover 
s-ife,  unbroken  till  it  be  hatched.  In  your  Mouniers,  Ma- 
louets,  Lechapeliers  is  science  sufficient  for  that ;  fervour  in 
your  Barnaves,  Rabauts.  At  times  shall  come  an  insi^iration 
from  royal  Mirabeau  ;  he  is  nowise  yet  recognised  as  roj^al ; 
nay,  he  was  'groaned  at,'  when  his  name  was  first  mentioned  : 
but  he  is  struggling  towards  recognition. 

In  the  course  of  the  week,  the  Commons  having  called 
their  Eldest  to  the  chair,  and  furnished  him  with  young 
stronger-lunged  assistants, — can  speak  articulately  ;  and,  in 
audible  lamentable  words,  declare  as  we  said,  that  they  are  an 
inorganic  body,  longing  to  become  organic.  Letters  arrive  ; 
but  an  inorganic  body  cannot  open  letters :  they  lie  on  the 
table  unopened.     The  Eldest  may,  at  most,  pi'ocure  for  him- 


152  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

self  some  kind  of  List  or  Muster-roll,  to  take  the  votes  by ; 
and  wait  what  will  betide.  Noblesse  and  Clergy  are  all  else- 
where :  however,  an  eager  public  crowds  all  galleries  and 
vacancies;  which  is  some  comfort.  AVith  effort,  it  is  deter- 
mined, not  that  a  Deputation  shidl  be  sent,  for  how  can  an 
iuoi-ganic  body  send  deputations  ? — but  that  certain  individ- 
ual Commons  Members  shall,  in  an  accidental  way,  stroll  into 
the  Clergy  Chamber,  and  then  into  the  Noblesse  one  ;  and 
mention  there,  as  a  thing  they  have  happened  to  observe,  that 
the  Commons  seem  to  be  sitting  waiting  for  them,  in  order 
to  verify  their  powers.     That  is  the  wiser  method  ! 

The  Clergy,  among  whom  are  such  a  multitude  of  Undigni- 
fied, of  mere  Commons  in  Curates'  frocks,  depute  instant 
respectful  answer  that  they  are,  and  will  noAV  more  than  ever 
be,  in  deepest  study  as  to  that  very  matter.  Contrariwise, 
the  Noblesse,  in  Cavalier  attitude,  reply  after  four  days,  that 
they  for  their  part  are  all  verified  and  constituted  ;  which, 
they  had  trusted,  the  Commons  also  were  ;  such  separate  veri- 
fication being  clearly  the  proper  constitutional  wisdom-of-an- 
cestors  method  ;— as  they  the  Noblesse  will  have  much  pleas- 
ure in  demonstrating  by  a  Commission  of  their  number,  if 
the  Commons  will  meet  them.  Commission  against  Commis- 
sion !  Directly  in  the  rear  of  which  comes  a  deputation  of 
Clergy,  reiterating,  in  their  insidious  concihatory  wa}',  the 
same  proposal.  Here  then  is  a  complexity  :  what  will  wise 
Commons  say  to  this  ? 

Warily,  iuertl}-,  the  wise  Commons,  considering  that  they 
are,  if  not  a  French  Third  Estate,  at  least  an  Aggregate  of 
individuals  pretending  to  some  title  of  that  kind,  determine, 
after  talking  on  it  five  days,  to  name  such  a  Commission, — 
though,  as  it  were,  with  j^i'oviso  not  to  be  com-inced  :  a  sixth 
day  is  taken  up  in  naming  it ;  a  seventh  and  an  eighth  day  in 
getting  the  forms  of  meeting,  place,  hour  and  the  like,  set- 
tled :  so  that  it  is  not  till  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  May  that 
Noblesse  Commission  first  meets  Commons  Commission, 
Clergy  acting  as  Conciliators  ;  and  begins  the  impossible  task 
of  convincing  it.  One  other  meeting,  on  the  2oLh,  will  suf- 
fice ;    the    Commons   are   iuconvincible,    the    Noblesse   and 


INERTIA.  153 

Clergy  irrefragably  convincing ;  the  Commissions  retire ; 
each  Order  persisting  in  its  first  pretensions,* 

Thus  have  three  weeks  passed.  For  three  weeks,  the 
Third-Estate  Carroccio,  with  far-seen  Gonfalon,  has  stood 
stock-still,  flouting  the  wind ;  waiting  what  force  would 
gather  round  it. 

Fancy  can  conceive  the  feeling  of  the  Court ;  and  how 
counsel  met  counsel,  and  loud-sounding  inanity  whirled  in 
that  distracted  vortex,  where  wisdom  could  not  dweU.  Yo,ur 
cunningly  devised  Taxing-machine  has  been  got  together  ;  set 
up  with  incredible  labour  ;  and  stands  there,  its  three  pieces 
in  contact ;  its  two  fly-wheels  of  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  its  huge 
working-wheel  of  Tiers  Etat.  The  two  fly-wheels  whirl  in  the 
softest  manner  ;  but,  prodigious  to  look  upon,  the  huge  work- 
ing-wheel hangs  motionless,  refuses  to  stir  !  The  cunningest 
engineers  are  at  fault.  How  ivill  it  work,  when  it  does  begin  ? 
Fearfully,  my  friends ;  and  to  many  pui-poses  ;  but  to  gather 
taxes,  or  grind  court-meal,  one  may  ajiprehend,  never.  Could 
we  but  have  continued  gathering  taxes  by  hand  !  Messeig- 
neurs  d'Ai'tois,  Conti,  Conde  (named  Count  Triumvirate),  they 
of  the  anti-democratic  Memoire  au  Eoi,  has  not  their  forebod- 
ing proved  true  ?  They  may  wave  reproachfully  their  high 
heads  ;  they  may  beat  their  poor  brains  ;  but  the  cunningest 
engineers  can  do  nothing.  Necker  himself,  were  he  even  lis- 
tened to,  begins  to  look  blue.  The  only  thing  one  sees  advisa- 
ble is  to  bring  up  soldiers.  New  regiments,  two,  and  a  bat- 
talion of  a  third,  have  already  reached  Paris  ;  others  shall  get 
in  march.  Good  were  it  in  all  circumstances,  to  have  troops 
within  reach  ;  good  that  the  command  were  in  sure  hands. 
Let  Broghe  be  appointed  ;  old  Marshal  Duke  de  Broglie  ; 
veteran  disciplinarian,  of  a  firm  drill-sergeant  morality,  such 
as  may  be  depended  on. 

For,  alas,  neither  are  the  Clergy,  nor  the  very  Noblesse 
what  they  should  be  ;  and  might  be,  when  so  menaced  from 
without:  entire,  undivided  within.  The  Noblesse,  indeed, 
have   their  Cataline  or  Crispin  d'Espremenil,  dusky-glowing, 

*  Reported  Debates,  6th  May  to  1st  June,  1789,  (in  Historie  Farlemen* 
taire,  i.  :)7l)-42£). 


154  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

all  in  renegade  heat :  theii-  boisterous  BaiTel-Mirabeau  ;  but 
also  tliey  have  their  Lafayettes,  Liaucourts,  Lameths  ;  above 
all,  their  d'Orleans,  now  cut  forever  from  his  Court-moorings, 
and  musing  drowsily  of  high  and  highest  sea-prizes  (for  is 
not  he  too  a  son  of  Henri  Quatre,  and  partial  potential  Heir- 
Apparent  ?) — on  his  voyage  towards  Chaos.  From  the  Clergy 
again,  so  numerous  are  the  Cures,  actual  deserters  have  run 
over  :  two  small  parties  ;  in  the  second  party  Care  Gr..'goire. 
Nay,  there  is  talk  of  a  whole  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  of 
them  about  to  dese:t  in  mass,  and  only  restrained  by  an 
A.rchbishop  of  Paris.     It  seems  a  losing  game. 

But  judge  if  France,  if  Paris,  sat  idle,  all  this  while  !  Ad- 
dresses from  far  and  near  flow  in  ;  for  our  Commons  have 
now  grown  organic  enough  to  open  letters.  Or  indeed  to 
cavil  at  them  !  Tims  poor  Marquis  de  Breze,  Supreme  Usher, 
Master  of  Ceremonies,  or  whatever  his  title  was,  writing  about 
this  time  on  some  ceremonial  matter,  sees  no  harm  in  wind- 
ing up  with  a  "Monsieur,  Yours  with  sincere  attachment.' — 
"To  whom  does  it  address  itself,  this  sincere  attachment?" 
inquii-es  Mirabeau.  "To  the  Dean  of  the  Tiers-Etat." — 
"  There  is  no  man  in  France  entitled  to  write  that,"  rejoins 
he  ;  whereat  the  Galleries  and  the  World  will  not  be  kept 
from  applauding*  Poor  de  Breze  !  These  Commons  have  a 
still  older  grudge  at  him  ;  nor  has  he  yet  done  with  them. 

In  another  way,  Mirabeau  has  had  to  protest  against  the 
quick  suppression  of  his  Newspaper,  Journal  of  the  States- 
General  ; — and  to  continue  it  under  a  new  name.  In  which 
act  of  valour,  the  Paris  Electors,  still  busy  redacting  their 
Cahier,  could  not  but  support  him,  by  Address  to  his  Maj- 
esty :  they  claim  utmost  '  provisory  freedom  of  the  press ; ' 
they  have  spoken  even  about  demolishing  the  Bastille,  and 
erecting  a  Bronze  Patriot  King  on  the  site ! — These  are  the 
the  rich  Burghers  :  but  now  consider  how  it  went,  for  example, 
with  such  loose  miscellany,  now  all  grown  eleutheromaniac,  of 
Loungers,  Prowlers,  social  Nondescripts  (and  the  distilled 
Rascality  of  our  Planet),  as  whirls  for  ever  in  the  Palais 
lloyal  ; — or  what  low  infinite  groan,  tist  changing  into  a 
*  Monitviir  Ji\  Kistcire  PftrlRme-iitaire").  i    405. 


INERTIA.  155 

growl,  comes  from  Saint-Antoine,  and  the  Twenty-five  Mill- 
ions in  danger  of  starvation  ! 

There  is  the  indisputablest  scarcity  of  corn  ; — be  it  Aristo- 
crat-plot, d'Orleans-plot,  of  this  year  ;  or  drought  and  hail  of 
last  year  :  in  city  and  j^rovince,  the  poor  man  looks  desolately 
towards  a  nameless  lot.  And  this  States-General,  that  could 
make  us  an  age  of  gold,  is  forced  to  stand  motionless  ;  cannot 
get  its  powers  verified  !  All  industry  necessarily  languishes, 
if  it  be  not  that  of  making  motions. 

In  the  Palais  Eoyal  there  has  been  erected,  apparently  by 
subscription,  a  kind  of  Wooden  Tent  (en  planches  de  bois)  ;* — 
most  convenient  ;  where  select  Patriotism  can  now  redact 
resolutions,  deliver  harangues,  with  comfort,  let  the  weather 
be  as  it  will.  Lively  is  that  Satan-at-Home  !  On  his  table, 
on  his  chaii',  in  every  cafe,  stands  a  patriotic  orator  ;  a  crowd 
round  him  within  ;  a  crowd  listening  from  without,  open- 
mouthed,  through  open  door  and  window ;  with  '  thunders  of 
applause  for  every  sentiment  of  more  than  common  hardiness.' 
In  Monsieur  Dessein's  Pamphlet-shop,  close  by,  you  cannot 
without  strong  elbowing  get  to  the  counter  :  every  hour  pro- 
duces its  jDamphlet,  or  Htter  of  pamphlets  ;  'there  were  thir- 
teen to-day,  sixteen  yesterday,  ninety -two  last  week.'f  Think 
of  Tyranny  and  Scarcity  ;  Fervid-eloquence,  Kumour,  Pam- 
phleteering ;  Societe  Puhlicale,  Breton  Club,  Enraged  Club  ; — 
and  whether  every  tap-room,  cofiee-room,  social-reunion,  acci- 
dental street-gi'oup,  over  wide  France,  was  not  an  Enraged 
Club ! 

To  all  which  the  Commons  Deputies  can  only  listen  with  a 
sublime  inertia  of  sorrow  ;  reduced  to  busy  themselves  '  with 
their  internal  police.'  Surer  position  no  Deputies  ever  occu- 
pied ;  if  they  keep  it  with  skill.  Let  not  the  temperature  rise 
too  high  ;  break  not  the  Eros-egg  till  it  be  hatched,  till  it 
break  itself  !  An  eager  public  crowds  all  Galleries  and  vacan- 
cies ;  '  cannot  be  restrained  from  applauding.'  The  two  Privi- 
leged Orders,  the  Noblesse  all  verified  and  constituted,  may 
look  on  with  what  face  they  will ;  not  without  a  secret  tre- 
mor of  heart.     The  Clergy,  always  acting  the  part  of  concilia- 

*  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  429.     f  Arthur  Young  :  Travels,  i.  104 


150  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

tors,  make  a  clutch  at  the  Galleries,  and  the  populai'ity  there  j 
and  miss  it.  Deputation  of  them  arrives,  with  dolorous  mes- 
sage about  the  '  dearth  of  grains,'  and  the  necessity  there  is 
of  casting  aside  vain  formalities,  and  deUberating  on  this. 
An  insidious  proposal ;  which,  however,  the  Commons  (moved 
thereto  by  sea-green  Robespierre)  dexterously  accept  as  a  sort 
of  hint,  or  even  pledge,  that  the  Clergy  will  forthwith  come 
over  to  them,  constitute  the  States-General,  and  so  cheapen 
grains  !  * — Finally  on  the  27th  day  of  Ma}',  IMirabeau,  judging 
the  time  now  nearly  come,  proposes  that  '  the  inertia  cease  ;' 
that,  leaving  the  Noblesse  to  their  own  stiff  ways,  the  Clergy 
be  summoned,  'in  the  name  of  the  God  of  Peace,'  to  join  the 
Commons,  and  begin. f  To  which  summons  if  they  turn  a 
deaf  ear, — we  shall  see  !  Are  not  one  Hundred  and  Forty- 
nine  of  them  ready  to  desert? 

O  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  new  Garde-des-Sceaus,  Barentin, 
thou  Home-Secretary  Breteuil,  Duchess  PoUgnac,  and  Queen, 
eager  to  listen, — what  is  now  to  be  done  ?  This  Third  Es- 
tate will  get  in  motion,  with  the  force  of  all  France  in  it ; 
Clergj'-machinery  with  Noblesse-machinery,  which  were  to 
serve  as  beautiful  counterbalances  and  drags,  will  be  shame- 
fully dragged  after  it,— and  take  fire  along  with  it.  What  is 
to  be  done?  The  (Eil-de-Boeuf  waxes  more  confused  than 
ever.  Whisper  and  counter-whisper  ;  a  ver}'  tempest  of  whis- 
pers !  Leading  men  from  all  the  Three  Orders  are  nightly 
spirited  thither  ;  conjurors  many  of  them  ;  but  can  they  con- 
jure this  ?  Necker  himself  were  now  welcome,  could  he  inter- 
fere to  purpose. 

Let  Necker  interfere,  then  ;  and  in  the  King's  name  !  Hap- 
pily that  incendiary  '  God-of-Peace '  message  is  not  yet  an- 
swered. The  three  Orders  shall  again  have  conferences  ; 
under  this  Patriot  IVlinister  of  theirs,  somewhat  may  be 
healed,  clouted  up  ; — we  meanwhile  getting  forward  Swiss 
Regiments,  and  a  '  hundred  pieces  of  field-artillery.'  This  is 
what  the  (Eil-de-Bceuf,  for  its  part,  resolves  on. 

But  as  for  Necker— Alas,  poor  Necker,  thy  obstinate  Third 
Estate  has  one  first-last  word,  verification  in  common,  as  the 
*  Kailly  :   Mcmoires,  i.  114.  f  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  413. 


MERCURY  BE  BREZK  157 

pledge  of  voting  and  deliberating  in  common  !  Half-way  pro- 
posals,  from  such  a  tried  friend,  they  answer  with  a  stare. 
The  tardy  conferences  speedily  break  up  :  the  Third  Estate, 
now  ready  and  resolute,  the  whole  world  backing  it,  retirrns 
to  its  Hall  of  the  Three  Orders ;  and  Necker  to  the  (Eil-de- 
JBoeuf,  with  the  character  of  a  disconjured  conjuror  there, — 
fit  only  for  dismissal.* 

And  so  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  last  on  theu'  own 
strength  getting  under  way  ?  Instead  of  Chairman,  or  Dean, 
they  have  now  got  a  President :  Astronomer  Bailly.  Under 
way,  with  a  vengeance !  With  endless  vociferous  and  temperate 
eloquence,  borne  on  News^Daper  wings  to  all  lands,  they  have 
now,  on  this  17tli  day  of  June,  determined  that  their  name  is 
not  Third  Estate,  but — National  Assembly!  They  then  are 
the  Nation?  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  Queen,  refractory  No- 
blesse and  Clergy,  what  then  are  you?  A  most  deep  ques- 
tion ; — scarcely  answerable  in  living  i:)olitical  dialects. 

All  regardless  of  which,  our  new  National  Assembly  pro- 
ceeds to  appoint  a  '  committee  of  subsistences  ;  '-^dear  to 
France,  though  it  can  find  little  or  no  grain.  Next,  as  if  our 
National  Assembly  stood  quite  firm  on  its  legs, — to  appoint 
'  four  other  standing  committees  ; '  then  to  settle  the  security 
of  the  National  Debt  ;  then  that  of  the  Annual  Taxation  :  all 
within  eight-and-forty  hours.  At  such  rate  of  velocity  it  is 
going  :  the  conjurors  of  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  may  well  ask  them- 
selves. Whither? 


CHAPTER  n. 

MERCURY     DE     BREZE. 


Now  surely  were  the  time  for  a  '  god  from  the  machine  ; ' 
there  is  a  nodus  worthy  of  one.  The  only  question  is.  Which 
God  ?  Shall  it  be  Mars  de  Broglie,  with  his  hundred  pieces 
of  cannon  ?  Not  yet,  answers  prudence  ;  so  soft,  irresolute  is 
King  Louis.  Let  it  be  Messenger  Mercury,  our  Supreme 
Usher  de  Broze  ! 

*  Debates,  1st  June  to  17th  June,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i. 
422-478). 


158  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

On  the  iTxOiTOw,  wliicli  is  the  20th  of  June,  these  Hundred 
and  Forty-nine  false  Curates,  no  longer  restraiuable  by  his 
Grace  of  Paris,  will  desert  in  a  body  :  let  de  Breze  intervene, 
and  produce — closed  doors  !  Not  only  shall  there  be  Royal 
Session,  in  that  Salle  des  Menus  ;  but  no  meeting,  nor  work- 
ing (excej^t  by  carjjeuters),  till  then.  Your  Third  Estate,  self- 
styled  'National  Assembly,'  shall  suddenly  see  itself  extruded 
from  its  Hall,  by  carpenters,  in  this  dextrous  way  ;  and  re- 
duced to  do  nothing,  not  even  to  meet,  or  articulately  lament, 
— till  Miijesty,  with  Seance  lloyale  and  new  miracles,  be  ready  ! 
In  this  manner  shall  de  Breze,  as  Mercury  ex  machind,  inter- 
vene ;  and,  if  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  mistake  not,  work  deliverance 
from  the  nnclus. 

Of  poor  de  Breze  we  can  remark  that  he  has  yet  prospered 
in  none  of  his  dealings  with  these  Commons.  Five  weeks  ago, 
when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  the  mode  he  took  got 
nothing  but  censure  ;  and  then  his  '  sincere  attachment,'  how 
was  it  scornfully  whitfed  aside  !  Before  suj^per,  this  night,  he 
writes  to  President  Bailly,  a  new  Letter,  to  be  delivered  shortly 
after  dawn  to-morrow,  in  the  King's  name.  Which  Letter, 
however,  Bailly,  in  the  pride  of  office,  will  merely  crush  to- 
gether, into  his  pocket,  like  a  bill  he  does  not  mean  to  j^ay. 

Accordingly  on  Saturday  morning  the  20th  of  June,  shrill- 
sounding  heralds  proclaim,  through  the  streets  of  Versailles, 
that  there  is  to  be  Seance  Royale  next  Monday  ;  and  no  meeting 
of  the  States-General  till  then.  And  yet,  we  observe.  Presi- 
dent Bailly,  in  sound  of  this,  and  with  de  Breze's  Letter  in  his 
pocket,  is  proceeding,  with  National  Assembly  at  his  heels,  to 
the  accustomed  Salle  des  Menus  ;  as  if  de  Breze  and  heralds 
were  mere  wdnd.  It  is  shut,  this  Salle  ;  occupied  by  Gardes 
Franyaises.  "  Where  is  your  Captain  ?  "  The  Captain  shows, 
his  royal  oi'der :  w^orkmen,  he  is  grieved  to  say,  are  all  busy 
setting  up  the  platform  for  his  Majesty's  Seance ;  most  \mfort- 
unately,  no  admission  ;  admission,  at  furthest,  for  President 
and  Secretaries  to  bring  away  papers,  which  the  joiners  might 
destroy ! — President  Bailly  enters  with  Secretaries  :  and  re- 
turns bearing  papers  :  alas,  within  doors,  instead  of  patriotic 
eloquence,  there  is  now  no  noise  but  hammering,  sawing,  and 


MERCURY  LE  BREZil.  159 

operative  screeching  a,nd  rumbling  !  A  profanation  witLout 
parallel. 

The  Deputies  s'jand  grouped  on  the  Paris  Eoad,  on  this 
umbrageous  ^iueM({(^  rfe  Versailles;  complaining  aloud  of  tlie 
indignity  done  them.  Courtiers,  it  is  supposed,  look  from 
tneir  windows,  and  giggle.  The  morning  is  none  of  the 
com  f  or  table  st :  raw  ;  it  is  even  drizzling  a  little.*  But  all 
travellers  pause  ;  patriot  gallery-men,  miscellaneous  specta- 
tors increase  the  groups,  Wild  counseb  alternate.  Some  des- 
perate Deputies  propose  to  go  and  hold  session  on  the  great 
outer  Stau'case  at  Marly,  under  the  King's  windows  ;  for  his 
Majesty,  it  seems,  has  driven  over  thither.  Others  talk  of 
making  the  Chateau  Forecourt,  what  they  call  Place  (TAriiieif, 
a  Runnymede  and  new  Chawp  de  Mai  of  free  Frenchmen  ;  nay 
of  awakening,  to  sounds  of  indignant  Patriotism,  tlie  echoes 
of  the  O^il-de-Boeuf  itself. — Notice  is  given  that  President 
Baill}',  aided  by  judicious  Gruillotin  and  others,  has  found 
place  in  the  Tennis-Court  of  the  Rue  St.  Francois.  Thither, 
in  long-drawn  tiles,  hoarse-jingling,  like  cranes  on  wing,  the 
Commons  Deputies  angrily  wend. 

Strange  sight  was  this  in  the  Rue  St.  Fran9ois,  Vieux  Ver- 
sailles !  A  naked  Tennis-Court,  as  the  Pictures  of  that  time 
still  give  it :  four  walls  ;  naked,  except  aloft  some  poor  wooden 
penthouse,  or  roofed  spectators  '-gallery,  hanging  round  them  : 
on  the  floor  not  now  an  idle  teeheeing,  a  snapping  of  balls 
and  rackets,  but  the  bellowing  din  of  an  indignant  National 
Representation  scandalously  exiled  hither!  However,  a  cloud 
of  witnesses  looks  down  on  them,  from  wooden  penthouse, 
from  w^all-top,  from  adjoining  roof  and  chimney  ;  rolls  toward 
them  from  all  quarters,  with  passionate  spoken  blessings. 
Some  table  can  be  procured  to  write  on ;  some  chair,  if  not 
to  sit  on,  then  to  stand  on.  The  Secretaries  undo  their  tajDes  ; 
Bailly  has  constitued  the  Assembly. 

Experienced  Mouuier,  not  wholly  new  to  such  things,  in  Par- 

lementary  revolts,  wdiich  he  has  seen  or  heard  of,  thinks  that 

it  were  well,  in  these  lamentable  threatening  circumstances, 

to  unite  themselves  by  an  Oath. — Universal  acclamation,  as 

*  Bailly  :  Mcmoires,  i.  185-206. 


160  THE  TUIUD  ESTATE. 

from  smouldering  bosoms  getting  vent !  The  Oath  is  re- 
dacted ;  pronounced  aloud  by  President  B.xilly, — and  indeed 
in  such  a  sonorous  tone  that  the  cloud  of  witnesses,  even  out 
doors  hear  it,  and  bellow  response  to  it.  Six  hundred  right- 
hands  rise  with  President  Bailly's,  to  take  God  above  to  wit- 
ness that  they  will  not  separate  for  man  below,  but  will  meet 
in  all  places,  under  all  circumstances,  wheresoever  two  or 
three  can  get  together,  till  they  have  made  the  Constitution. 
Made  the  Constitution,  Friends !  That  is  a  long  task.  Six 
hundred  hands,  meanwhile,  will  sign  as  they  have  sworn  :  six 
hundred  save  one  ;  one  Loyalist  Abdiel,  still  -sisible  by  this 
sole  light-point,  and  nameable,  poor  '  M.  Martin  d'Auch,  from 
Castelnaudary,  in  Languedoc'  Him  they  permit  to  sign  or 
signify  refusal ;  they  even  save  him  fi-om  the  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses, by  declaring  'his  head  deranged.'  At  four  o'clock,  the 
signatures  are  all  appended  ;  new  meeting  is  fixed,  for  Mon- 
day morning,  earlier  than  the  horn*  of  the  Eoyal  Session  ; 
that  our  Hundred  and  Forty -nine  Clerical  deserters  be  not 
balked  :  we  will  meet  '  at  the  RecoUets  Church  or  elsewhere,' 
in  hope  that  our  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  will  join  us  ; — and 
now  it  is  time  to  go  to  dinner. 

This  then  is  the  Session  of  the  Tennis-Court,  famed  Seance 
da  Jea  de  Paume ;  the  fame  of  which  has  gone  forth  to  all 
lands.  This  is  Mercurius  de  Breze's  ai:)pearauce  as  Deui^  ex 
machind  ;  this  is  the  fruit  it  brings  !  The  giggle  of  Courtiers 
in  the  Versailles  Avenue  has  already'  died  into  gaunt  silence. 
Did  the  distracted  Court,  with  Garde-des  Sceaux  Barentin, 
Triumvirate  and  Company,  imagine  that  they  could  scatter 
six  hundred  National  Deputies,  big  with  a  National  Constitu- 
tion, like  as  much  barndoor  jioultry,  big  with  next  to  nothing, 
— by  the  white  or  black  rod  of  a  Sui^reme  Usher?  Barndoor 
poultry  fly  cackling :  but  National  Deputies  turn  round, 
lion-faced  ;  and,  with  uplifted  right-hand,  swear  an  Oath  that 
makes  the  four  corners  of  France  tremble. 

President  Bailly  has  covered  himself  with  honour  ;  which 
shall  become  rewards.  The  National  Assembly  is  now  doubly 
and  trebly  the  Nation's  Assembly  ;  not  militant,  martyred  only, 
but  triumphant ;  insulted,  and  which  could  2iot  he  insulted. 


:Muiicuiiy  DE  miLZE.  161 

Paris  disembogues  itself  once  more,  to  witness,  '  with  grim 
looks,'  the  Stance  Royale  :*  which,  by  a  new  felicity,  is  post- 
poned till  Tuesday.  The  Hundred  and  Forty-nine,  and  even 
with  Bishops  among  them,  all  in  processional  mass,  have  had 
free  leisure  to  march  off,  and  solemnly  join  the  Commons  sit- 
ting waiting  in  theii'  Chm-ch.  The  Commons  welcomed  them 
with  shouts,  with  embracings,  nay  with  tears  ;  f  for  it  is  grow- 
ing a  life-and-death  matter  now. 

As  for  the  Seance  itself,  the  Carj)enters  seem  to  have  accom- 
plished theii-  platform  ;  but  all  else  remains  unaccomplished. 
Futile,  vv-e  may  say  fatal,  was  the  whole  matter.  King  Louis 
enters,  through  seas  of  people,  all  grim-silent,  angry  with 
many  things,  — for  it  is  a  bitter  rain  too.  Enters,  to  a  Third 
E-itate,  likewise  grim-silent  ;  which  has  been  wetted  waiting 
under  mean  porches,  at  back-doors,  while  Court  and  Privi- 
leged were  entering  by  the  front.  King  and  Garde-de-Sceaux 
(there  is  no  Necker  visible)  make  known,  not  without  long- 
windedness,  the  determinations  of  the  royal  breast.  The 
Three  Orders  shall  vote  separately.  On  the  other  hand, 
France  may  look  for  considerable  constitutional  blessings  ;  as 
specified  in  these  Five-and-thirty  Articles,  \  which  Garde-de- 
Sceaux  is  waxing  hoarse  with  reading.  Which  Five-and-thirty 
Articles,  adds  his  Majesty  again  rising,  if  the  Three  Orders 
most  unfortunately  cannot  agree  together  to  effect  them,  I 
myseK  will  effect:  " i<eul  je  feral  le  Men  de  mes  peuj;/e.s," — 
which  being  interpreted  may  signify',  You,  contentious  Depu- 
ties of  the  States-General,  have  probably  not  long  to  be  here  ! 
But,  in  fine,  all  shall  now  withdraw  for  this  day  ;  and  meet 
again,  each  Order  in  its  sej^ai'ate  place,  to-morrow  morning, 
for  despatch  of  business.  This  is  the  determination  of  the 
royal  breast  :  pithy  and  clear.  And  herewith  King,  retinue, 
Noblesse,  majority  of  the  Clergy  file  out,  as  if  the  whole  mat- 
ter Avere  satisfactorily  completed. 

These  file  out ;  through  grim-silent  seas  of  people.  Only 
the  Commons  Deputies  file    not  out  ;   but  stand    there  in 

*  See  Arthur  Young  (Travels,  i.  115-118);  A.  Lametli,  &c. 
f  Dumont :   Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  c.  4. 
I  Histoire  Parlementaire,  i.  13. 
Vol.  I.— 11 


lGl5  rilE  THIRD   ESTATE. 

gloomy  silence,  uncertain  wli;it  t]ie\  "sli:ill  do.  One  man  of 
tliem  is  certain  ;  one  man  of  them  discerns  and  dares  !  It  is 
now  that  King  Mirabeau  starts  to  the  Tribune,  and  lifts  up 
his  lion-voice.  Verily  a  word  in  season  ;  for,  in  such  scenes, 
the  moment  is  the  mother  of  ages  !  Had  not  Gabriel  Honore 
been  there, — one  can  well  fancy,  how  the  Commons  Depu- 
ties, aflVighted  at  the  perils  which  now  yawned  dim  all  round 
them,  and  waxing  ever  paler  in  each  other's  paleness,  might 
very  naturally,  one  after  one,  have  glided  off ;  and  the  whole 
course  of  European  History  have  been  different ! 

But  he  is  there.  List  to  the  hrool  of  that  royal  forest-voice  ; 
sorrowful,  low  ;  fast  swelling  to  a  roar !  Eyes  kindle  at  the 
glance  of  his  eye  :— National  Deputies  wei'e  missioned  by  a 
Nation  ;  they  have  sworn  an  Oath  ;  they — But  lo !  while  the 
lion's  voice  roars  loudest,  what  Apparition  is  this  ?  Apparition 
of  Mercurius  de  Breze,  muttering  somewhat! — "Speak  out," 
cry  several. — "Messieurs,"  shrills  de  Breze,  repeating  himself, 
"you  have  heard  the  King's  orders!" — Mirabeau  glares  on 
him  with  fire-flashing  face  ;  shakes  the  black  lion's  mane  : 
"  ¥es.  Monsieur,  we  have  heard  what  the  King  was  advised  to 
"say  :  and  you,  who  cannot  be  the  interpreter  of  his  orders 
"  to  the  States-General ;  you,  who  have  neither  place  nor  right 
"of  speech  here  ;  you  are  not  the  man  to  remind  us  of  it. 
"  Go,  Monsieur,  tell  those  who  sent  3'ou  that  we  are  hei'e  by 
"  the  will  of  the  People,  and  that  nothing  but  the  force  of 
"  bayonets  shall  send  us  hence  !  "  *  And  poor  de  Brez6  shivers 
forth  from  the  National  Assembly  ; — and  also  (if  it  be  not  in 
one  faintest  glimmer,  months  later)  finally  from  the  page  of 
History ! — 

Hapless  de  Breze  ;  doomed  to  sui'vive  long  ages  in  men's 
memory,  in  this  faint  way,  with  tremulent  white  rod  !  He 
w-as  true  to  Etiquette,  Avliich  was  his  Faith  here  below  ;  a  mar- 
tyr to  respect  of  persons.  Short  woollen  cloaks  could  not  kiss 
Majesty's  liand  as  long  velvet  ones  did.  Nay  lately,  when  the 
poor  little  Daui)hin  lay  dead,  and  some  ceremonial  visitation 
came,  was  he  not  punctual  to  announce  it  even  to  the   Dau- 

*  Moniteur,  (Hist.  Parlem.  ii.  23.) 


MERCURY  BE  BREZE.  1C3 

phin's  dead  body  :  "  Monseigneur,  a  Deputation  of  the  States- 
General  !  "*     Sunt  lachrymoi  reram. 

Bat  what  does  the  Q5il-de-Boeuf,  now  when  de  Breze  shivers 
back  thither?  De^patdi  that  same  force  of  bayonets?  Not 
so  :  the  seas  of  people  still  hang  multitudinous,  intent  on  what 
is  passing  :  nay  rush  and  roll,  loud-billowing,  into  the  Coui-ts 
of  the  Chateau  itself  ;  for  a  report  has  risen  that  Necker  is  to 
be  dismissed.  Worst  of  all,  the  Gardes  Frangaises  seem  in- 
disposed to  act :  '  two  Companies  of  them  do  not  fire  when 
ordered ! '  f  Necker,  for  not  being  at  the  Seance,  shall  be 
shouted  for,  carried  home  in  triumph  ;  and  must  not  be  dis- 
missed. His  Grace  of  Paris,  on  the  other  hand,  has  to  fly 
with  broken  coach-panels,  and  owe  his  life  to  furious  driving. 
The  Gardes-da- Corps  (Body-Guards),  which  you  were  drawing 
out,  had  better  be  drawn  in  again. J  There  is  no  sending  of 
bayonets. to  be  thought  of. 

Instead  of  soldiers,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  sends — cai-penters,  to 
take  down  the  platform.  Ineffectual  shift !  In  few  instants,  the 
very  carpenters  cease  wrenching  and  knocking  at  their  plat- 
form ;  standing  on  it,  hammer  in  hand,  and  listen  open- 
mouthed.  §  The  Third  Estate  is  decreeing  that  it  is,  was,  and 
will  be,  nothing  but  a  National  Assembly  ;  and  now,  moreover, 
an  inviolable  one,  all  members  of  it  inviolable  :    '  infamous, 

*  traitorous,  towards  the  Nation,  and  guilty  of  caj)ital  crime,  is 
'  any  person,  body-corporate,  tribunal,  court  or  commission 

*  that,  now  or  henceforth,  during  the  present  session,  or  after 
'it,  shall  dare  to  pursue,  interrogate,  arrest,  or  cause  to  be 
'  aiTCsted,  detain,  or  cause  to  be  detained,  any,' &c.,  &c.,  'on 
'  whose  part  soecer  the  same  be  commanded.'  ||  "Which  done, 
one  can  wind  up  with  this  comfortable  reflection  from  the  Abbe 
Sieyes  :   "  Messieurs,  you  are  to-day  what  you  were  yesterday." 

Courtiers  may  shiiek ;  but  it  is,  and  remains,  even  so.  Their 
well-charged  explosion  has  exploded  through  the  touch-hole  ; 
covering  themselves  with  scorches,  confusion,  and  unseemly 
soot !     Poor  Triumvii-ate,  poor  Queen  ;  and  above  all,  poor 

*  Montgaillard,  ii.  38.  §  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  23. 

f  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  26.         |  Montgaillard,  ii.  47, 
i  Bailly,  i.  217. 


IGt  TUB  TIIIIW  ESTATE. 

Qaeen's  Husband,  who  means  well  bad  he  any  fixed  meaning  ! 
Folly  is  that  wisdom  which  is  wise  only  behindhand.  Few 
months  ago  these  Thirty-five  Concessions  had  filled  Fi-ance  with 
a  rejoiciug,which  might  have  lasted  for  several  years.  Now  it  is 
unavailing,  and  the  very  mention  of  it  slighted  ;  Majesty's  ex- 
press orders  set  at  nought. 

All  France  is  in  a  roar  ;  a  sea  of  persons,  estimated  at  '  ten 
thousand,' whirls,  'all  this  day  in  the  Palais  Eoyal.'*  The 
remaining  Clergy  ;  and  Ukewise  some  Forty-eight  Noblesse, 
d'Oleans  among  them,  have  now  forthwith  gone  over  to  the 
victorious  Commons  ;^by  whom,  as  is  natural,  they  are  re- 
ceived 'with  acclamation.' 

The  Third  Estate  triumj)hs ;  Versailles  Town  shouting 
round  it  ;  ten  thousand  w^hirling  all  day  in  the  Palais  Royal  ; 
and  all  France  standing  a-tiptoe,  not  unlike  whirling  !  Let 
the  Q3il-de-Boeuf  look  to  it.  As  for  King  Louis,  he  wiU  swal- 
low his  injui'ies  ;  will  temporise,  keep  silence  ;  will  at  all  costs 
have  i^resent  peace.  It  w^as  Tuesday,  the  23d  of  June,  when 
he  spoke  that  peremptoiy  royal  mandate  ;  and  the  week  is  not 
done  till  he  has  written  to  the  remaining  obstinate  Noblesse, 
that  they  also  must  oblige  him,  and  give  in.  D'Espremenil 
rages  his  last ;  Ban-el  Mirabeau  '  breaks  his  sword  ; '  making  a 
vow, — which  he  might  as  well  have  kept.  The  '  Triple  Fam- 
ily '  is  now  therefore  complete ;  the  third  erring  brother,  the 
Noblesse,  having  joined  it ; — erring  but  pardonable  ;  soothed, 
so  far  as  possible,  by  sweet  eloquence  from  President  Bailly. 

So  triumphs  the  Third  Estate  ;  and  States-General  ai'e  be- 
come National  Assembly  ;  and  all  France  may  sing  Te  Deum. 
By  wise  inertia,  and  wise  cessation  of  inertia,  great  victory  has 
been  gained.  It  is  the  last  night  of  June  :  all  night  you  meet 
nothing  on  the  streets  of  Versailles  but  '  men  running  with 
torches,'  Avith  shouts  and  jubilation.  From  the  2nd  of  May 
when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  to  this  30th  of  June 
when  men  run  with  torches,  we  count  eight  weeks  and  three 
days.  For  eight  weeks  the  National  Cai'accio  has  stood  far- 
seen,  ringing  many  a  signal :  and,  so  much  liaving  now  gath- 
ered round  it,  may  hope  to  stand. 

*  Arthur  Young,  i.  119. 


BROGLIE  THE  WAR- 001).  1C5 


CHAPTER  m. 


BROGLIE    THE    WAR-GOD. 


The  Court  feels  indignant  that  it  is  conquered  ;  but  wliat 
then  ?  Another  time  it  will  do  better.  Mercury  descended  in 
vain  ;  now  has  the  time  come  for  Mars.  — The  gods  of  the  CEU- 
de-Boeuf  have  withdrawn  into  the  darkness  of  their  cloudy  Ida  ; 
and  sit  there,  shaping  and  forging  what  may  be  needful,  be  it 
'billets  of  a  new  National  Bank,'  munitions  of  war,  or  things 
forever  inscrutable  to  men. 

Accordingly,  what  means  this  '  apparatus  of  ti'oops '  ?  The 
National  Assembly  can  get  no  furtherance  for  its  Commit- 
tee of  Subsistences  ;  can  hear  only  that,  at  Paris,  the  Bakers' 
shops  are  besieged  ;  that,  in  the  Provinces,  people  are  '  liv- 
ing on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass.'  But  on  aU  highways 
there  hover  dust-clouds,  with  the  march  of  regiments,  witJi 
the  trailing  of  cannon  :  foreign  Pandours,  of  fierce  aspect ; 
Salis-Samade,  Esterhazy,  Royal-AUemand  ;  so  many  of  them 
foreign  ;  to  the  number  of  thirty  thousand, — which  fear  can 
magnify  to  fifty  :  all  wending  toward  Paris  and  Versailles! 
Already,  on  the  heights  of  Montmartre,  is  a  digging  and  delv- 
ing ;  too  like  a  scarping  and  trenching.  The  effluence  of 
Paris  is  arrested  Versailles-ward  by  a  barrier  of  cannon  at 
Sevres  Bridge.  From  the  Queen's  Mews,  cannon  stand  pointed 
on  the  National  Assembly  Hall  itself.  The  National  Assembly 
has  its  very  slumbers  broken  by  the  tramp  of  soldiery,  swarm- 
ing and  defiling,  endless,  or  seemingly  endless,  all  around 
those  spaces,  at  dead  of  night,  '  without  drum-music,  without 
audible  word  of  command.'*     What  means  it? 

Shall  eight,  or  even  shall  twelve  Deputies,  our  Mirabeaus, 
Barnaves  at  the  head  of  them,  be  whirled  suddenly  to  the 
Castle  of  Ham  ;  the  rest  ignominiously  dispersed  to  the  winds  ? 
No  National  Assembly  can  make  the  Constitution  with  cannon 
levelled  on  it  from  the  Queen's  Mews !  Wliat  means  this  reti- 
*A.  Lameth  :   AsaemblJe  Constitiiante,  i.  41, 


1G5  THE   THIRD  ESTATE. 

ceuce  of  the  (Eil- Je-Boeuf ,  broken  only  by  nods  and  shrugs  ? 
lu  the  mystery  of  that  cloudy  Ida,  what  is  it  that  they  forge 
and  shape  ? — Such  questions  must  distracted  Patriotism  keep 
asking,  and  receive  no  answer  but  an  echo. 

Questions  and  echo  bad  enough  in  themselves  : — and  now, 
above  all,  while  the  hungi-y  food-year,  which  nins  from  Au- 
gust to  August,  is  getting  older  ;  becoming  more  and  more 
a  famine  year  !  With  '  meal-husks  and  boiled  gi-ass,'  Brigands 
miy  actudly  collect :  and,  in  ci'owds,  at  farm  and  mansion, 
howl  angrily,  i^ooc? /  Food!  It  is  in  vain  to  send  soldiers 
against  them  :  at  sight  of  soldiers  they  disperse,  they  vanish 
as  under  ground  ;  then  directly  re-assemble  elsewhere  for  new 
tumult  and  plunder.  Frightful  enough  to  look  upon  :  but 
what  to  hear  of,  reverberated  through  Twenty-five  Millions  of 
suspicious  minds!  Brigands  and  Broglie,  open  Conflagra- 
tion, preternatui-al  Rumour  are  driving  mad  most  hearts  in 
France.     What  Avill  the  issue  of  these  things  be  ? 

At  Marseilles,  many  weeks  ago,  the  Townsmen  have  taken 
arms  ;  for  '  suppressing  of  Brigands,'  and  other  purposes : 
the  military  Commandant  may  make  of  it  what  he  will.  Else- 
where, everywhere,  could  not  the  like  be  done  ?  Dubious,  on 
the  distracted  Patriot  Imagination,  wavers,  as  a  last  deliver- 
ance, some  foi'eshadow  of  a  National  Guard,  But  conceive, 
above  all,  the  Wooden  Tent  in  the  Palais  Royal !  A  universal 
hubbub  there,  as  of  dissolving  worlds  :  there  loudest  bellows 
the  mad,  mad-making  voice  of  Rumour  ;  there  shai-pest 
gazes  Suspicion  into  the  pale  dim  World-WhirliDool ;  discern- 
ing shapes  and  phantasms  :  imminent  blood-thirsty  Regiments 
camped  on  the  Champ  de  Mars  ;  dispersed  National  Assem- 
bly ;  red-hot  cannon  balls  (to  burn  Paris)  ; — the  mad  War-god 
ind  Bellona's  sounding  thongs.  To  the  calmest  man  it  is  be- 
coming too  plain  that  battle  is  inevitable. 

Inevitable,  silently  nod  Messeigneurs  and  Broglie  :  Inevi- 
table and  brief !  Your  National  Assembly,  stopped  short 
in  its  Constitutional  labours,  may  fatigue  the  royal  ear  with 
addresses  and  remonstrances  :  those  cannon  of  ours  stand 
duly  levelled  ;  those  ti-oops  are  here.  The  Bang's  Declaration 
with  its  Thirty -five  too  generous  Articles,  was  spoken,  was  not 


BROGUE  THE  WAR- GOD.  107 

listened  to  ;  but  remaius  jet  unrevoked  :  he  himself  shall  ef- 
fect it,  seul  ilfera! 

As  for  Broglie,  he  has  his  headquarters  at  Versailles,  all  as 
in  a  seat  of  war :  clerks  writing  ;  significant  staflf-officers,  in- 
clined to  taciturnity  ;  plumed  aid-de-camps,  scouts,  orderlies 
flying  or  hovering.  He  himself  looks  forth,  important,  im- 
penetrable ;  listens  to  Besenval,  Commandant  of  Paris,  and 
his  warning  and  earnest  counsels  (for  he  has  come  out  i-epeat- 
cdly  on  purpose)  with  a  silent  smile.*  The  Parisians  resist? 
scornfully  cry  Messeigneurs.  As  a  meal-mob  may  !  They 
have  sat  quiet,  these  five  generations,  submitting  to  all. 
Their  Mercier  declared,  in  these  very  years,  that  a  Parisian 
revolt  was  henceforth  '  impossible.'  *  Stand  by  the  royal  Dec- 
laration, of  the  Twenty-third  of  June.  The  Nobles  of  France, 
valorous,  chivalrous  as  of  old,  will  rally  round  us  with  one 
heart ;— and  as  for  this  which  you  call  Third  Estate,  and 
Avliich  we  call  canaille  of  unwashed  Sansculottes,  of  Patelins, 
Scribblers,  factious  Spouters, — brave  Broglie,  'with  a  whiff  o^ 
gTape-shot  (salve  de  canons),'  if  need  be,  will  give  quick  ac- 
count of  it.  Thus  reason  they  :  on  their  cloudy  Ida  ;  hidden 
from  men, — men  also  hidden  from  them. 

Good  is  grape-shot,  Messeigneurs,  on  one  condition  :  that 
the  shooter  also  were  made  of  metal !  But  unfortunately  he 
is  made  of  flesh  ;  under  his  buffe  and  bandoleers,  your  hired 
shooter  has  instincts,  feehngs,  even  a  kind  of  thought.  It  is 
his  kindred,  bone  of  his  bone,  this  same  canaille  that  shall  be 
Avhiffed  ;  he  has  brothers  in  it,  a  father  and  mother, — liA-ing 
on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass.  His  very  doxy,  not  yet '  dead 
i'  the  spital,'  drives  him  into  mihtary  heterodoxy  ;  declares 
that  if  he  shed  Patriot  blood,  he  shall  be  accursed  among  men. 
The  soldier  who  has  seen  his  pay  stolen  by  rapacious  Foulons, 
his  blood  wasted  by  Soubises,  Pompadours,  and  the  gates  of 
promotion  shut  inexorably  on  him  if  he  were  not  born  noble, 
—is  himself  not  without  griefs  against  you.  Your  cause  is 
not  the  soldier's  cause  ;  but,  as  would  seem,  your  own  only, 
and  no  other  god's  nor  man's. 

For  example,  the  Avorld  may  have  heard  how,  at  Bethune 
*  Besauval,  iii.   393.  f  Mercier:  Tableau  de  Paris,  vi.  22. 


lOS  THE  TUIRD  ESTATE. 

lately,  when  there  rose  'riot  about  grains/  of  which  sort  there 
are  so  many,  and  the  soldiers  stood  drawn  out,  and  the  word 
*Fire  ! '  was  given, — not  a  trigger  stirred  ;  only  the  butts  of 
all  muskets  rattled  angrily  against  the  ground  ;  and  the  sol- 
diers stood  glooming,  with  a  mixed  expression  of  countenance  ; 
— till  clutched  '  each  under  the  arm  of  a  patriot  householder,' 
they  were  all  hurried  off,  in  this  manner,  to  be  treated  and 
caressed,  and  have  their  joay  increased  by  subscription  !  * 

Neither  have  the  Gardes  Fran^aises,  the  best  regiment  of 
the  line,  showai  any  promptitude  for  street  firing  lately.  They 
returned  grumbling  from  Keveillon's  ;  and  have  not  burnt  a 
single  cartridge  since  ;  nay,  as  W'e  saw^,  not  even  when  bid.  A 
dangerous  humour  dwells  in  these  Gardes.  Notable  men  too, 
in  their  way !  Valadi  the  Pythagorean  was,  at  one  time,  an 
officer  of  theirs.  Na}',  in  the  ranks,  under  the  thi'ee-cornered 
felt  and  cockade,  what  hard  heads  may  there  not  be,  and  re- 
flections going  on, — unknown  to  the  public  !  One  head  of  the 
hardest  we  do  now  discern  there  :  on  the  shoulders  of  a  certain 
Serjeant  Hoche.  Lazare  Hoche,  that  is  the  name  of  him  ;  he 
used  to  be  about  the  Versailles  Eoyal  Stables,  nephew  of  a  poor 
herb-woman  ;  a  handy  lad  ;  exceedingly  addicted  to  reading. 
He  is  now  Serjeant  Hoche,  and  can  rise  no  further  ;  he  lays 
out  his  pay  in  rushlights,  and  cheap  editions  of  books. f 

On  the  whole,  the  best  seems  to  be  :  Consign  these  Gardes 
Frangaises  to  their  Barracks.  So  Besenval  thinks,  and  orders. 
Consigned  to  their  Barracks,  the  Gardes  Fran^aises  do  but 
form  a  'Secret  Association,'  an  Engagement  not  to  act  against 
the  National  Assembly.  Debauched  by  Yaladi  the  Pythago- 
rean ;  debauched  by  money  and  women  !  cry  Besenval  and  in- 
numerable others.  Debauched  by  what  you  will,  or  in  need 
of  no  debauching,  behold  them,  long  files  of  them,  their  con- 
signment broken,  arrive,  headed  by  their  Serjeants,  on  the 
26th  day  of  June,  at  the  Palais  Royal !  Welcomed  with  vivats, 
with  presents,  and  a  pledge  of  patriot  liquor  ;  embracing  and 
embraced  ;  declaring  in  words  that  the  cause  of  France  is  their 
cause  !     Next  day  and  the  following  days  the  like.     What  is 

*  Ilistoire  Parlementaire. 

\  Eictioiuiaire  des  Ho:amos  Blarriuans   Londios  Taris;*    1800,  ii.  198. 


BROGLIE  THE  WAR-GOD.  1G9 

singular  too,  except  this  patriot  humour,  and  breaking  of  their 
consignment,  they  behave  otherwise  with  '  the  most  rigorous 
accuracy.'* 

They  are  growing  questionable,  these  Gardes  !  Eleven  ring- 
leaders of  them  are  put  in  the  Abbaye  Prison.  It  boots  not 
in  the  least.  The  imprisoned  Eleven  have  only  '  by  the  hand 
of  an  individual '  to  droj),  towards  nig'htfall,  a  line  in  the  Cafe 
de  Foy  ;  where  Patriotism  harangues  loudest  on  its  table. 
'  Two  hundred  young  persons,  soon  waxing  to  four  thousand,' 
Avith  fit  crowbars,  roll  towards  the  Abbaye  ;  smite  asunder  the 
needful  doors  ;  and  bear  out  their  Eleven,  with  other  military 
victims : — to  supper  in  the  Palais  Koyal  Garden  ;  to  board, 
and  lodging  '  in  camp-beds,  in  the  ThMtre  des  Varietes  ;  '  other 
national  Prytaneum  as  yet  not  being  in  readiness.  Most  de- 
liberate !  Nay,  so  punctual  Avere  these  young  persons,  that 
finding  one  military  victim  to  have  been  imjDrisoned  for  real 
civil  crime,  they  returned  him  to  his  cell,  with  protest. 

Why  new  military  force  was  not  called  out  ?  New  military 
force  was  called  out.  New  military  force  did  arrive,  full 
gallop,  with  drawn  sabre  :  but  the  people  gently  '  laid  hold  of 
their  bridles  ; '  the  dragoons  sheathed  their  swords  ;  lifted 
their  caps  by  way  of  salute,  and  sat  like  mere  statues  of  dra- 
goons,— except  indeed  that  a  drop  of  liquor  being  brought 
them,  they  '  drank  to  the  King  and  Nation  with  the  greatest 
'  cordiality  !  'f 

And  now,  ask  in  return,  why  Messeigneurs  and  Broglie  the 
great  god  of  war,  on  seeing  these  things  did  not  pause  ;  and 
take  some  other  course,  any  other  course  ?  Unhappily,  as  we 
said,  they  could  see  nothing.  Pride,  which  goes  before  a  fall ; 
wrath,  if  not  reasonable,  yet  pardonable,  most  natural,  had 
hardened  their  hearts  and  heated  their  heads  :  so  with  imbe- 
cility and  violence  (ill-matched  pair)  they  rush  to  seek  their 
hour.  All  Regiments  are  not  Gardes  Franyaises,  or  de- 
bauched by  Valadi  the  Pythagorean  :  let  fresh  undebauched 
Eegiments  come  up  ;  let  Eoyal-Allemand,  Salis-Samade,  Swiss 
Chateau-Vieux  come  up, — which  can  fight,  but  can  hardly 
speak  except  in  German  gutturals  ;  let  soldiers  march,  and 
*  Btfsenval,  iii.  394-G.  f  Ilistoii-y  Farli'iuontairo,  ii.  32. 


KO  THE  THIRD   ESTATE. 

highways  thuuder  with  artillery- wagons :  Majesty  has  a  new 
Royal  Session  to  hold, — and  miracles  to  work  there  !  The 
whiff  of  gi-apeshot  can,  if  needful,  become  a  blast  and  tempest. 
In  which  circumstances,  before  the  i-ed-hot  balls  begin  rain- 
ing, may  not  the  Hundred-and-twenty  Paris  Electors,  though 
their  Calder  is  long  since  finished,  see  good  to  meet  again 
dail}',  as  an  '  Electoral  Club  '  ?  They  meet  first  '  in  a  Tavern  ; ' 
• — where  '  a  large  wedding-party '  cheerfully  gives  place  to 
them.*  But  latterly  they  meet  in  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  in  the 
Town-hall  itself.  FlesseUes,  Provost  of  Merchants,  with  his 
Four  Echevins  (Scabina,  assessors)  could  not  prevent  it  ;  such 
was  the  force  of  public  opinion.  He,  with  his  Echevins,  and 
the  Six-and-twenty  Town-Councillors,  all  appointed  from 
Above,  may  well  sit  silent  there,  in  their  long  gowns  ;  and 
consider,  with  awed  eye,  what  prelude  this  is  of  convulsion 
coming  from  Below,  and  how  they  themselves  shall  fare  in 
that ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TO  arms! 


So  hangs  it,  dubious,  fateful,  in  the  sultry  days  of  July.  It 
is  the  passionate  printed  advice  of  M.  Marat,  to  abstain,  of  all 
things,  from  violence.f  Nevertheless,  the  hungry  poor  are  al- 
ready burning  Town  Barriers,  where  Tribute  on  eatables  is 
levied  ;  getting  clamorous  for  food. 

The  twelfth  July  morning  is  Sunday  :  the  streets  are  aU  pla- 
carded with  an  enormous-sized  De  2^ar  le  lioi,  '  inviting  peace- 
able citizens  to  remain  within  doors,'  to  feel  no  alarm,  to 
gather  in  no  crowd.  Why  so  ?  What  mean  these  '  placards 
of  enormous  size  '  ?  Above  all,  what  means  this  clatter  of 
military,  dragoons,  hussars,  rattling  in  from  all  points  of  the 
compass  towards  the  Place  Louis  Quinze  ;  w^ith  a  staid  gravity 

*  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille  (Collection  des  Memoires,  par  Berville 
et  Barriere,  Paris,  1821  \  p.  2G9. 

f  Avis  an  peuple.  o\i  Ics  Ministres  djvoiLs,  1st  July,  1789  {in  Histoire 
Patltjnu'ntaire,  ii.  ij7;. 


TO  ARMS!  171 

of  face,  tliough  saluted  with  mere  nicknames,  hootings,  and 
even  missiles  ?  *  Besenval  is  with  them.  Swiss  Guards  of 
his  are  already  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  with  four  pieces  of 
artillery. 

Have  the  destroyers  descended  on  us,  then  ?  From  the 
Bridge  of  Sevres  to  utmost  Vincennes,  from  Saint-Denis  to 
the  Champ-de-Mars,  we  are  begirt !  Alarm,  of  the  vague  un- 
known, is  in  every  heart.  The  Palais  Roj'al  has  become  a 
place  of  awestruck  interjections,  silent  shakings  of  the  head  : 
one  can  fancy  with  Avhat  dolorous  stound  the  noon-tide  can- 
non (which  the  Sun-fires  at  crossing  his  meridian)  went  off 
there ;  bodeful,  like  an  inarticulate  voice  of  doom,  f  Are 
these  troops  verily  come  '  out  against  Brigands '  ?  Where  are 
the  Brigands?  What  mystery  is  in  the  wind? — Hark  !  a 
human  voice  reporting  articulately  the  Job's-news :  Necker, 
l^eople's  Minister,  Saviour  of  France,  is  dismissed.  Impos- 
sible ;  incredible  !  Treasonous  to  the  public  peace  !  Such 
a  voice  ought  to  be  choked  in  the  water- works  ;  J— had  not 
the  news-bi-inger  quickly  fled.  Nevertheless,  friends,  make  of 
it  what  ye  will,  the  news  is  true.  Necker  is  gone.  Necker 
hies  northward  incessantly,  in  obedient  secrecy,  since  yester- 
night. We  have  a  new  Ministry  :  Brogiie  the  War-god ; 
Aristocrat  Breteuil ;  Foulon,  who  said  the  people  might  eat 
grass  ! 

Rumour,  therefore,  shall  arise  ;  in  the  Palais  Royal,  and  in 
broad  France.  Paleness  sits  on  every  face  ;  confused  tremor 
and  fremescence  ;  waxing  into"  thunder-peals,  of  Fury  stirred 
on  bv  fear. 


But  see  Camille  Desmouhns,  from  the  Cafe  de  Foy,  rushing 
out,  sibylhne  in  face  ;  his  hair  streaming,  in  each  hand  a  pis- 
tol !  He  springs  to  a  table  :  the  Police  satellites  are  eyeing 
him  ;  alive  they  shall  not  take  him,  not  they  alive,  him  alive. 
This  time  he  speaks  without  stammering  : — Friends  !  shall  we 
die  like  hunted  hares  ?  Like  sheep  hounded  into  their  pin- 
fold ;  bleating  for   mercy,  where    is   no   mercy,  but   only  a 

*  Besenval,  iii.  411.         f  Histoire  Parlemeiitaiie,  ii.  81.         J  Ibid. 


172  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

whetted  knife  ?  The  hour  is  come  :  the  supreme  hour  o' 
Frenchiuau  and  Man  ;  when  Oppressors  are  to  try  conclusions 
with  Oppressed  ;  and  the  word  is,  swift  Death  or  Dehverance 
forever.  Let  such  hour  be  well-covae  !  Us,  meseems,  one  cry 
onlv  befits  :  To  Ai-ms  !  Let  universal  Paris,  universal  France, 
as  with  the  throat  of  the  whirlwind,  sound  only  :  To  arms!— 
"  To  arms  !  "  yell  responsive  the  innumerable  voices  ;  like  one 
great  voice,  as  of  a  Demon  yelling  from  the  air  :  for  all  faces 
wax  fire-eyed,  all  hearts  burn  up  into  madness.  In  such,  or 
fitter  words,*  does  Camille  evoke  the  Elemental  Powers,  in 
this  great  moment. — Friends,  continues  Camille,  some  rally- 
ing-sign  !  Cockades  ;  gTeen  ones  ; — the  colour  of  Hope  ! — As 
with  the  flight  of  locusts,  these  green  tree-leaves ;  green 
ribands  from  the  neighboring  shops  ;  all  green  things  are 
snatched,  and  made  cockades  of.  Camille  descends  from  his 
table  ;  '  stifled  with  embraces,  wetted  with  tears ; '  has  a  bit  of 
green  riband  handed  him  ;  sticks  it  in  his  hat.  And  now  to 
Cartius'  Image-shop  there  ;  to  the  Boulevards  ;  to  the  four 
winds,  and  rest  not  till  France  be  on  fire  ! 

France,  so  long  shaken  and  -vNTind-parched,  is  probably  at 
the  right  inflammable  point. — As  for  poor  Curtius,  Avho,  one 
grieves  to  think,  might  be  but  imperfectly  paid, — he  cannot 
make  two  words  about  his  Images.  The  Wax- bust  of  Necker, 
the  Wax-bust  of  d'Orleans,  helpers  of  France  :  these,  covered 
with  crape,  as  in  funeral  procession,  or  after  the  manner  of 
suppliants  appealing  to  Heaven,  to  Earth,  and  Tartarus  itself, 
a  mixed  multitude  bears  off.  For  a  sign  !  As,  indeed,  man, 
with  his  singular  imaginative  faculties,  can  do  little  or  noth- 
ing without  signs  ;  thus  Turks  look  to  their  Prophet's  Banner  ; 
also  Osier  Mannikins  have  been  burnt,  and  Necker's  Portrait 
has  erewhile  figured,  aloft  on  its  perch. 

In  this  manner  march  they,  a  mixed,  continually  increas- 
ing multitude ;  armed  with  axes,  staves  and  miscellanea  ;  grim, 
many  sounding,  through  the  streets.  Be  all  Theatres  shut ; 
let  all  dancing,  on  planked  floor,  or  on  the  natural  green- 
sward, cease !     Instead  of  a  Christain  Sabbath,  and  feast  of 

*  Vieux  Cordelier  par  Camille  Desmoulins,  No.  5  (reprinted  in  Collec- 
tion fles  Mi'moires  par  Bandouin  Fr>re3,  Paris,  1825),  p.  8. 


TO  ARMS/  173 

guinguette  tabernacles,  it  sliall  be  a  Sorcerer's  Sabbath  ;  and 
Paris,  gone  rabid,  dance, — with  the  Fiend  for  piper ! 

However,  Besenval,  with  horse  and  foot,  is  in  the  Place 
Louis  Quinze.  Mortals  promenading  homewards,  in  the  fall 
of  the  da}',  saunter  by,  from  Chaillot  or  Passy,  from  flirtation 
and  a  little  thin  wine  ;  ^vith  sadder  step  than  usual.  Will  the 
Bust-Procession  pass  that  way  ?  Behold  it ;  behold  also 
Prince  Lambesc  dash  forth  on  it,  with  his  Royal  Allemands  ! 
Shots  fall,  and  sabre-strokes  ;  Basts  are  hewed  asunder ;  and, 
alas,  also  heads  of  men.  A  sabred  Procession  has  nothing  for 
it  but  to  explode,  along  what  streets,  alleys,  Tuileries  Avenues 
it  finds,  and  disapj)ear.  One  unarmed  man  lies  hewed  down  ; 
a  Garde  rran9aise  by  his  uniform  ;  bear  him  (or  bear  even 
the  report  of  him)  dead  and  gory  to  his  Barracks ; — where  he 
has  comrades  still  alive  ! 

But  why  not  now,  victorious  Lambesc,  charge  through  that 
Tuileries  Garden  itself,  where  the  fugitives  are  vanishing? 
Not  show  the  Sunday  promenaders  too  how  steel  glitters,  be- 
sprent with  blood  ;  that  it  be  told  of,  and  men's  ears  tingle  ? — 
Tingle,  alas,  they  did  ;  but  the  wrong  way.  Victorious  Lam- 
besc, in  this  his  second  or  Tuileries  charge,  succeeds  but  in 
overturning  (call  it  not  slashing,  for  he  struck  with  the  flat  of 
his  sword)  one  man,  a  j)oor  old  schoolmaster,  most  pacifically 
tottering  there  ;  and  is  driven  out,  by  barricade  of  chairs,  by 
flights  of  '  bottles  and  glasses,'  by  execrations  in  bass-voice  and 
treble.  Most  delicate  is  the  mob-queller's  vocation  ;  wherein 
Too-much  may  be  as  bad  as  Not-enough.  For  each  of  these 
bass-voices,  and  more  each  treble  voice,  borne  to  all  parts  of 
the  City,  rings  now  nothing  but  distracted  indignation  ;  will 
ring  all  night.  The  cry,  To  arm^,  roars  tenfold  ;  steeples  with 
their  metal  storm-voice  boom  out,  as  the  sun  sinks  ;  armourers' 
shops  are  broken  open,  phmdered  ;  the  streets  are  a  living 
foam-sea,  chafed  by  all  the  winds. 

Such  issue  came  of  Lambesc's  charge  on  the  Tuileries  Gar- 
den ;  no  striking  of  salutary  terror  into  Chaillot  promenaders ; 
a  sti-ikiug  into  broad  wakefulness  of  Frenzy  and  the  three 
Furies, — which  otherwise  were  not  asleep  !     For  they  lie  al- 


174  THE  TUIRD  ESTATE. 

•Nvays,  those  subterranean  Eumenides  (fabulous  and  yet  so  true;, 
in  the  dullest  existence  of  man  ; — and  can  dance,  brandisliing 
their  dusk}'  torches,  shaking  their  serpent-hair,  Lambesc 
•uith  Rojal-Allemand  may  ride  to  his  baiTacks,  with  curses 
for  his  mai'ching-music  ;  then  ride  back  again,  like  one  troubled 
in  mind  :  vengeful  Gardes  Fran^aises,  sacreiWQ,  with  knit 
brows,  start  out  on  him,  fi-om  their  baiTacks  in  the  Chausse 
d  An  tin ;  pour  a  volley  into  him  (killing  and  wounding) ;  which 
he  must  not  answer,  but  ride  on.* 

Counsel  dwells  not  under  the  plumed  hat.  If  the  Eumeni- 
des awaken,  and  Broglie  has  given  no  orders,  what  can  a  Be- 
senval  do  ?  When  the  Gardes  Fran9aises,  with  Palais  Royal 
volunteers,  roll  down,  gi-eedy  of  more  vengeance,  to  the  Place 
Louis  Quiuze  itself,  they  find  neither  Besenval,  Lambesc,  Eoyal- 
Allemand,  nor  any  soldier  now  there.  Gone  is  niihtaiy  order. 
On  the  far  Eastern  Boulevard,  of  Saint-Antoine,  the  Chasseiu-s 
Normandie  arrive,  dusty,  thirsty,  after  a  hard  day's  ride  ;  but 
can  find  no  billet-master,  see  no  course  in  this  City  of  confu- 
sions cannot  get  to  Besenval,  cannot  so  much  as  discover 
where  he  is  :  Normandie  must  even  bivouac  there,  in  its  dust 
and  thii'st, — unless  some  patriot  will  ti'eat  it  to  a  cup  of  liquor, 
with  advices. 

Raging  multitudes  suiTound  the  H6tel-de-Yille,  crying  : 
Arms  !  Orders  !  The  Six-and-twenty  Town-Councillors,  Avith 
their  long  gowns,  have  ducked  under  (into  the  raging  chaos) ; 
shall  never  emerge  more.  Besenval  is  painfully  wriggling 
himself  out,  to  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  he  must  sit  there  '  in  the 
cruellest  uncertainty  :  '  courier  after  coui-ier  may  dash  off  for 
Versailles  ;  but  will  bring  back  no  answer,  can  hardly  bring 
himself  back.  For  the  roads  are  all  blocked  with  batteries  and 
pickets,  with  floods  of  carnages  an*ested  for  examination  :  such 
was  Broglie's  one  sole  order  ;  the  CEil-de-Bceuf,  hearing  in  the 
distance  such  mad  din,  which  sounded  almost  like  invasion, 
will  before  all  things  keep  its  own  head  whole.  A  new  Min- 
istiy,  "\rith,  as  it  were,  but  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  cannot  take 
leapa     Mad  Pai'is  is  abandoned  altogether  to  itself. 

*  Weber,  ii.  75-91. 


GIVE   US  ARMS.  175 

What  a  Paris,  when  the  darkness  fell !  A  European  metro- 
politan City  hurled  suddenly  forth  from  its  old  combinations 
and  arrangements  ;  to  crash  tumultuously  together,  seeking 
new.  Use  and  wont  will  now  no  longer  direct  any  man  ;  each 
man,  -with  what  of  originality  he  has,  must  begin  thinking  ;  or 
following  those  that  think.  Seven  hundred  thousand  individ- 
uals, on  the  sudden,  find  all  their  old  paths,  old  ways  of  acting 
and  deciding,  vanish  from  under  their  feet.  And  so  there  go 
they,  with  clangour  and  terror,  they  know  not  as  yet  whether 
running,  swimming  or  flying, — headlong  into  the  New  Era. 
With  clangour  and  terror  :  from  above,  Broglie  the  war-god 
impends,  preternatural,  Avith  his  redhot  cannon  balls  ;  and 
from  below  a  preternatural  Brigand-world  menaces  with  du-k 
and  firebrand  ;  madness  rules  the  hour. 

Happily,  in  place  of  the  submerged  Twenty-six,  the  Electoral 
Club  is  gathering  ;  has  declared  itself  a  '  Provisional  Munici- 
pality.' On  the  morrow,  it  will  get  Provost  Flesselles,  with  an 
Echevin  or  two,  to  give  help  in  many  things.  For  the  present 
it  decrees  one  most  essential  thing  :  that  forthwith  a  '  Parisian 
Militia '  shall  be  enrolled.  Depart,  ye  heads  of  Districts,  to 
labour  in  this  great  work  ;  while  we  here,  in  Permanent  Com- 
mittee, sit  alert.  Let  fencible  men,  each  party  in  its  own  range 
of  streets,  keep  watch  and  ward,  all  night.  Let  Paris  court  a 
little  fever-sleep  ;  confused  by  such  fever-dreams,  of  'violent 
motions  at  the  Palais  Royal  ; ' — or  from  time  to  time  start 
awake,  and  look  out,  palpitating,  in  its  nightcap,  at  the  clash 
of  discordant  mutually-unintelhgible  Patrols  ;  on  the  gleam  of 
distant  Barriers,  going  up  aU-too  ruddy  towards  the  vault  of 
Nio-ht.* 


CHAPTER    V. 

GIVE     US     ARMS, 


Ox  Monday,  the  huge  City  has  awoke,  not  to  its  weekday 
industry  ;  to  what  a  different  one  !     The  working  man  has  be- 
come a  fighting  man  ;  has  one  want  only  ;  that  of  arms.     The 
industry  of  all  crafts  has  paused  ; — except  it  be  the  smith's, 
*  Deux  Amis,  i.  207-306. 


17C  rilE   THIRD   ESTATE. 

fiercely  hammering  pikes  ;  and,  in  a  faint  degree,  the  kitchen- 
er's, cooking  off-hand  victuals,  for  bouche  va  loujours.  "Women 
too  are  sewing  cockades ; — not  now  of  green,  which  being 
d'Artois  colour,  the  HOtel-de-Yille  has  had  to  interfere  in  it ; 
but  of  red  and  blue,  our  old  Paris  colours  :  these,  once  based  on 
a  ground  of  constitutional  lohile,  afe  the  famed  Tricolour, — 
which  (if  Projjhecy  err  not)  'will  go  round  the  world.' 

All  shops,  unless  it  be  the  Bakers'  and  Vintners',  are  shut : 
Paris  is  in  the  streets  ; — rushing,  foaming  like  some  Venice 
Avine  glass  into  which  you  had  dropped  j)oison.  The  tocsin, 
by  order,  is  jDeaHng  madly  from  all  steeples.  Anns,  ye  Elector 
Municipals,  thou  Flesselles  with  thy  Echevins,  give  us  arms. 
Flesselles  gives  what  he  can :  fallacious,  perhaps  insidious 
promises  of  arms  from  Charleville  ;  order  to  seek  ai*ms  here, 
order  to  seek  them  there.  The  new  Municipals  give  what  th'i'y 
can  ;  some  three  hundred  and  sixty  indifferent  firelocks,  the 
equipment  of  the  City- Watch :  '  a  man  in  wooden  shoes,  and 
without  coat,  directly  clutches  one  of  them,  and  mounts  guard.' 
Also,  as  hinted,  an  order  to  all  Smiths  to  make  pikes  with 
their  whole  soul. 

Heads  of  Districts  ai-e  in  fervent  consultation  ;  subordinate 
Patriotism  roams  distracted,  ravenous  for  arms.  Hitherto  at 
the  Hutel-de-Ville  was  only  such  modicum  of  indifferent  five- 
locks  as  Ave  have  seen.  At  the  so-called  Arsenal,  there  lies 
nothing  but  rust,  rubbish  and  saltpetre,. — overlooked  too  by  the 
guns  of  the  Bastille.  Hirs  Majesty's  Repository,  Avhat  they  call 
Garde-Meuble,  is  forced  and  ransacked  :  tapestries  enough,  and 
gauderies  ;  but  of  serviceable  fighting-gear  small  stock  !  Two 
silver  mounted  cannons  there  ai-e  ;  an  ancient  gift  fi-om  his 
Majesty  of  Siam  to  Louis  Fourteenth  :  gilt  sword  of  the  Good 
Henri  ;  antique  Chivalry-arms  and  armour.  These,  and  such 
as  these,  a  necessitous  Patriotism  snatches  greedily,  for  want 
of  better.  The  Siamese  cannons  go  trundHng,  on  an  errand 
they  were  not  meant  for.  Among  the  indifferent  firelocks  are 
seen  tourney-lances ;  the  princely  helm  and  hauberk  ghttering 
amid  ill-hatted  heads, — as  in  a  time,  when  all  times  and  theil 
possessions  are  suddenly  sent  jumbling  I 


GIVE    US  ARMS.  177 

At  the  liaison  de  Sainte-Lazare,  Lazar-House  once,  now  a 
Correction-House  with  Priests,  there  was  no  trace  of  arms  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  corn,  plainly  to  a  culpable  extent. 
Out  vdth  it,  to  market ;  in  this  scarcity  of  grains  !— Heavens, 
will  '  fifty-two  carts,'  in  long  row,  hardly  carry  it  to  the  Halle 
aux  BlecU  ?  Well  truly,  ye  reverend  Fathers,  was  your  pantry 
filled  ;  fat  are  your  larders  ;  over-generous  your  wine  bins,  ye 
plotting  exasperators  of  the  Poor  ;  traitorous  forestallers  of 
bread  ! 

Vain  is  protesting,  entreaty  on  bare  knees  :  the  House  of 
Saint-Lazarus  has  that  in  it  which  comes  not  out  by  protesting. 
Behold,  how,  from  every  window,  it  vomits  :  mere  torrents  of 
furniture,  of  bellowing  and  hui'lyburly  ; — the  cellars  also  leak- 
ing wine.  Tni,  as  was  natural,  smoke  arose, — kindled,  some 
say,  by  the  desperate  Saint-Lazaristes  themselves,  desperate 
of  other  riddance  ;  and  the  Establishment  vanished  from  this 
world  m  flame.  Remark  nevertheless  that  '  a  thief  (set  on  or 
not  by  Aristocrats),  being  detected  there,  is  '  instantly  hanged.' 

Look  also  at  the  Chatelet  Prison.  The  Debtor's  Prison  of 
La  Force  is  broken  from  without  ;  and  they  that  sat  in  bond- 
age to  Aristocrats  go  free  ;  hearing  of  which  the  Felons  at 
the  Chatelet  do  likewise  '  dig  up  their  pavements,'  and  stand 
on  the  offensive  ;  with  the  best  prospects, — had  not  Patriotism, 
passing  that  way,  'fired  a  volley'  into  the  Felon-world  ;  and 
crushed  it  down  again  under  hatches.  Patriotism  consorts 
not  with  thieving  and  felony  :  surely  also  Punishment,  this 
day,  hitches  (if  she  still  hitch)  after  Crime,  with  frightful 
shoes-of-swiftness  !  '  Some  score  or  two  '  of  wretched  per- 
sons, found  prostrate  with  drink  in  the  cellars  of  that  Saint- 
Lazare,  are  indignantly  haled  to  prison  ;  the  Jailor  has  no 
room  ;  whereupon,  other  place  of  security  not  suggesting  it- 
self, it  is  written,  '  on  les  pendit,  they  hanged  them.'  *  Brief 
is  the  word  ;  not  without  significance,  be  it  true,  or  untrue  ! 

In  such  circumstances,  the  Aristocrat,  the  unpatriotic  rich 
man  is  packing  up  for  departure.     But  he  shall  not  get  de- 
parted.    A  Avooden-shod  force  has  seized  all  Bai-riers^  burnt 
*  Histoire  Paiiemeutaiie,  ii.  96. 
Vol.  I.-13 


178  TUE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

or  not :  all  tliat  enters,  all  that  seeks  to  issue,  is  stopped 
there,  and  dragged  to  the  Hotel- de-Ville :  coaches,  tumbrils, 
plate,  furnitm-e,  '  many  meal- sacks,'  in  time  even  '  flocks  and 
herds'  encumber  the  Place  de  Gr^^ve.* 

And  so  it  roars,  and  rages,  and  brays  ;  drums  beating, 
steeples  pealing ;  criers  rushing  with  hand-bells  :  "  Oyez, 
oyez,  All  men  to  their  Disti'icts  to  be  enrolled !  "  The  Dis- 
tricts have  met  in  gardens,  open  squares  ;  are  getting  mar- 
shalled into  volunteer  troops.  No  red-hot  ball  has  yet  faDen 
from  Besenval's  Camj) ;  on  the  contrary.  Deserters  with  their 
arms  are  continually  dropping  in  :  nay  nov/,  joy  of  joys,  at  two 
in  the  afternoon,  the  Gardes  Fran(;aises,  being  ordered  to  Saint 
Denis,  and  flatl}'  declining,  have  come  over  in  a  body  !  It  is 
a  fact  worth  many  Three  thousand  six  hundred  of  the  best 
fighting  men,  with  comi^lete  accoutrement ;  with  cannoneers 
even,  and  cannon !  Their  officers  are  left  standing  alone  ; 
could  not  so  much  as  succeed  in  '  sj^iking  the  guns.'  The  very 
Swiss,  it  may  now  be  hoped,  Chateau- Vieux  and  the  others, 
will  have  doubts  about  fighting. 

Our  Parisian  Militia,  which  some  think  it  were  better  to 
name  National  Guard, — is  prosj)ering  as  heart  could  ^\'ish. 
It  promised  to  be  forty  eight  thousand  ;  but  will  in  few  hours 
double  and  quadruple  that  number  :  invincible,  if  we  had 
only  arms ! 

But  see,  the  promised  Chai-lesville  Boxes,  marked  Artillerie! 
Here  then  are  arms  enough  ? — Conceive  the  blank  face  of  Par- 
triotism,  Avhen  it  found  them  filled  with  rags,  foul  linen,  can- 
dle-ends, and  bits  of  wood  !  Provost  of  Merchants,  how  is  this  ? 
Neither  at  the  Chartreux  Convent,  whither  we  were  sent  with 
signed  order,  is  there  or  ever  was  there  any  weapon  of  war.  Nay 
here,  in  this  Seine  Boat,  safe  under  tarpauHngs  (had  not  the 
nose  of  Patriotism  been  of  the  finest),  are  'five  thousand- 
weight  of  gunpowder  ; '  not  coming  in,  but  suiTcptitiously 
going  out !  What  meanest  thou,  Flesselles  ?  'Tis  a  tickhsh 
game,  that  of  'amusing'  us.  Cat  plays  with  captive  mouse; 
but  mouse  with  eui-aged  cat,  with  enraged  National  Tiger  ? 
*  Dusaulx  •,  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  p.  390. 


GIVE    US  ARMS.  179 

Meanwhile,  the  faster,  O  ye  black  aproned  Smiths,  smite  ; 
with  strong  arm  and  willing  heai-t.  This  man  and  that,  all 
stroke  from  head  to  heel,  shall  thunder  alternating,  and 
ply  the  gi-eat  forgehammer,  till  stithy  reel  and  ring  again  ; 
while  ever  and  anon,  overhead,  booms  the  alarm-cannon, — 
for  the  City  has  now  got  gunpowder.  Pikes  are  fabricated  ; 
fifty  thousand  of  them,  in  six-and-thirty  hours  :  judge  whether 
the  Black-aproned  have  been  idle.  Dig  trenches,  unpave  the 
streets,  ye  others,  assiduous,  man  and  maid  ;  cram  the  earth 
in  barrel  barricades,  at  each  of  them  a  volunteer  sentry  ;  pile 
the  whinstones  in  window-sills  aud  upper  rooms.  Have  scald- 
ing pitch,  at  least  boiling  water  ready,  ye  w^eak  old  women,  to 
pour  it  and  dash  it  on  Eoyal-Allemand,  with  youi'  old  skinny 
arms  ;  your  shrill  curses  along  with  it  will  not  be  wanting  ! — 
Patrols  of  the  new-born  National  Guard,  bearing  torches,  scour 
the  streets,  all  that  night ;  which  otherwise  are  vacant,  yet 
illuminated  in  every  window  by  order.  Strange-looking  ;  like 
some  naphtha-lighted  City  of  the  Dead,  with  here  and  there 
a  flight  of  perturbed  Ghosts. 

O  poor  mortals,  how  ye  make  this  Earth  bitter  for  each 
other,  this  fearful  and  wonderful  Life  fearful  and  horrible  ; 
and  Satan  has  his  place  in  all  hearts  !  Such  agonies  and  rag- 
ings  and  wailings  ye  have,  and  have  had,  in  all  times :  to  be 
bui-ied  all,  in  so  deep  silence  ;  and  the  salt  sea  is  not  swoln 
with  youi-  tears. 

Great  meanwhile  is  the  moment,  when  tidings  of  Freedom 
reach  us  ;  when  the  long-enthralled  soul,  from  amid  its  chains 
and  squalid  stagnancy,  arises,  were  it  still  only  in  blindness 
and  bewilderment,  and  swears  by  Him  that  made  it,  that  it 
will  be  free !  Free  ?  Understand  that  well,  it  is  the  deep 
commandment,  dimmer  or  clearer,  of  our  whole  being  to  be 
free.  Freedom  is  the  one  purport,  wisely  aimed  at,  or  un- 
wisely, of  all  man's  struggles,  toilings  and  sufferings,  in  this 
earth.  Yes,  supreme  is  such  a  moment  (if  thou  have  known 
it) :  first  vision  as  of  a  flame-girt  Sinai,  in  this  our  waste  Pil- 
grimage,— which  thenceforth  wants  not  its  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day,  and  pillar  of  fire  by  night !  Something  it  is  even, — nay, 
something  considerable,  when  the  chains  have  grown  corro' 


ISO  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

sice,  poisonous, — to  be  free  '  from  oppression  by  our  fellow- 
man.'  Forward,  ye  maddened  sous  of  France  ;  be  it  towards 
this  destiny  or  towards  that !  Around  you  is  but  stan'atiou, 
falsehood,  corruption  and  the  calm  of  death.  Where  ye  are 
is  no  abiding. 


Imagination  may,  imperfectly,  figure  how  Commandant  Be- 
senval,  in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  has  worn  out  these  son-owful 
hours.  Insurrection  raging  all  round  ;  his  men  meltiug 
away !  From  Versailles,  to  the  most  pressing  messages,  comes 
no  answer  ;  or  once  only  some  vague  word  of  answer  which 
is  worse  than  none.  A  Council  of  Officers  can  decide  merely 
that  there  is  no  decision:  Colonels  inform  him,  'weeping,' 
that  they  do  not  think  their  men  will  fight.  Cruel  uncer- 
tainty is  here  :  war-god  Broglie  sits  yonder,  inaccessible  in 
liis  Olympus  ;  does  not  descend  terror-clad,  does  not  produce 
his  whiff  of  grape-shot ;  sends  no  orders. 

Truly,  in  the  Chateau  of  Versailles  aU  seems  mystery :  in 
the  Town  of  Versailles,  were  Ave  there,  all  is  rumour,  alarm, 
and  indignation.  An  august  National  Assembly  sits,  to  ap- 
pearance, menaced  with  death  ;  endeavouring  to  defy  death. 
It  has  resolved  '  that  Necker  carries  with  him  the  regi-ets  of 
the  Nation.'  It  has  sent  solemn  Deputation  over  to  the  Cha- 
teau, with  entreaty  to  have  these  troops  Avithdrawn.  In  vain  : 
his  Majesty,  with  a  singular  composure,  invites  us  to  be  busy 
rather  with  our  own  duty,  making  the  constitution  !  Foreign 
Pandours,  and  such  like,  go  pricking  and  prancing,  with  a 
swashbuckler  air  ;  with  an  eye  too  probably  to  the  Salle  cles 
Menus, — were  it  not  for  the  '  giim-looking  countenances '  that 
crowd  all  aA-enues  there.*  Be  firm,  ye  National  Senators ; 
the  cynosure  of  a  firm,  grim-looking  people  ! 

The  august  National  Senators  detemiine  that  there  shall, 
at  least,  be  Permanent  Session  till  this  thing  end.  AVherein 
however,  consider  that  worthy  Lafranc  de  Pompignan,  our 
new  President,  whom  wc  have  named  Bailly's  successor,  is  an 
old  man,  Avearied  Avith  many  things.     He  is  the  Brother  of 

*  ike  Lametli :   Feniercs,  kc. 


GIVE   US  ARMS.  LSI 

that  Pompignan  who  meditated  lamentably  on  the  Book  of 

Lamentations : 

Savez-rous  'pourqnm  Jlremie 
Se  lamentait  tout  sri  vie  ? 
Cest  qu'il  prevoyait 
Que  Pompignan  le  traduirail! 

Poor  Bishop  Pompignan  withdraws  ;  having  got  Lafayette  for 
helper  or  substitute  :  this  latter,  as  nocturnal  Vice-President, 
with  a  thin  house  in  disconsolate  humour,  sits  sleepless,  with 
lights  unsnuffed  ; — waiting  what  the  hours  will  bring. 

So  at  Versailles.  But  at  Paris,  agitated  Besenval,  before 
retiring  for  the  night,  has  stept  over  to  old  M.  de  Sombreuil, 
of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  hard  by.  M.  de  Sombreuil  has, 
what  is  a  great  secret,  some  eight-and-twenty  thousand  stand 
of  muskets  deposited  in  his  cellars  there  ;  but  no  trust  in  the 
temper  of  his  Invahdes.  This  day,  for  example,  he  sent 
twenty  of  the  fellows  do^vn,  to  unscrew  those  muskets ;  lest 
sedition  might  snatch  at  them  :  but  scarcely,  in  six  hours,  had 
the  twenty  unscrewed  twenty  gun  locks,  or  dogsheads  (chiens) 
of  locks— each  luvalide  his  dogshead  !  If  oi'dered  to  fu-e,  they 
would,  he  imagines,  turn  their  cannon  against  himself. 

Unfortunate  old  military  gentlemen,  it  is  your  hour,  not  of 
glory  !  Old  Marquis  de  Launay  too,  of  the  Bastille,  has  pulled 
up  his  drawbridges  long  since,  '  and  retired  into  his  interior  ;' 
with  sentries  walking  on  his  battlements,  amder  the  midnight 
sky,  aloft  over  the  glare  of  illuminated  Paris  ; — whom  a  Na- 
tional Patrol,  passing  that  way,  takes  the  liberty  of  firing  at : 
'  seven  shots  towards  twelve  at  night,'  which  do  not  take 
effect.*  This  was  the  13th  day  of  July,  1789  ;  a  worse  day, 
many  said,  than  the  last  13th  was,  when  only  hail  fell  out  of 
Heaven,  not  madness  rose  out  of  Tophet,  ruining  worse  than 
crops ! 

In  these  same  days,  as  Chronology  wiU  teach  ns,  hot  old 

Marquis    Mirabeau   lies   stricken   down,  at  Argenteuil, — not 

within   sound   of  these  alarm-guns  ;  for  he  properly  is  not 

there,  and  only  the  body  of  him  now  lies,  deaf  and  cold  for- 

*Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberte,  i.  313. 


1^'^  THE   THIRD   ESTATE. 

ever.  It  was  ou  S.itur Jay  night  that  he,  drawing  hie  hist  life- 
bi-eaths,  gave  up  the  ghost  there  ; — leaving  a  world,  which 
would  never  go  to  his  mind,  now  broken  out,  seemingly,  into 
deliration,  and  the  culbule  generale.  What  is  it  to  him,  de- 
parting elsewhither,  on  his  long  journey  ?  The  old  Chateau- 
Mirabeau  stands  silent,  far  off,  on  its  scarped  rock,  in  that 
*  gorge  of  two  Avindy  valleys  ; '  the  pale-fading  spectre  now  of 
a  Chateau  :  this  huge  World-riot,  and  France,  and  the  World 
itself,  fades  also,  like  a  shadow  on  the  great  still  mirror-sea  ; 
and  all  shall  be  as  God  wills. 

Young  Mirabeau,  sad  of  heart,  for  he  loved  this  crabbed 
brave  old  Father  ;  sad  of  heart,  and  occupied  with,  sad  cares, 
— is  withdrawn  from  Public  History.  The  great  crisis  trans- 
acts itself  without  him.* 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

ITOKM    AND    VICTORY 


But,  to  the  living  and  the  strugghng,  a  new.  Fourteenth 
morning  dawns.  Under  all  roofs  of  this  distracted  City  is 
the  nodus  of  a  drama,  not  untragical,  crowding  towards  solu- 
tion. The  bustlings  and  preparings,  the  tremors  and  menaces  ; 
the  tears  that  fell  from  old  eyes !  This  day,  my  sons,  ye  shall 
quit  you  like  men.  By  the  memory  of  your  fathers'  wrongs, 
by  the  hope  of  your  children's  rights  !  Tyranny  impends  in 
red  wrath  :  help  for  you  is  none  if  not  in  your  own  right 
hands.     This  day  ye  must  do  or  die. 

From  earliest  light,  a  sleepless  Penuanent  Committee  has 
heard  the  old  cry,  now  Avaxing  almost  frantic,  mutinous : 
Ai-ms  !  Arms  !  Provost  Flesselles,  or  what  traitors  there  are 
among  you,  may  think  of  those  Charleville  Boxes.  A  hun- 
dred-and-fifty  thousand  of  us  ;  and  but  the  third  man  fui'- 
nished  with  so  much  as  a  pike  !  Arms  are  the  one  thing  need- 
ful :  with  arms  Ave  are  an  unconquerable  man-defying  National 
Guard  ;  Avithout  arms,  a  rabble  to  be  Avhiffed  Avitli  grapeshot. 

Happily  the  Avord  has  arisen,  for  no  secret  can  be  kept, — 
*  Fils  Adoptif  Mirabeau,  vi.  1.  1. 


SrOBM  AND  VICTORY.  1S3 

that  there  lie  muskets  at  the  Hotel  des  Invalides.  Thither  will 
we  :  King's  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny,  and  whatsoever 
of  authority  a  Permanent  Committee  can  lend,  shall  go  with 
us.  Besenval's  Camp  is  there  ;  perhaps  he  will  not  tire  on 
us  ;  if  he  kill  us  we  shall  but  die. 

Alas,  poor  Besenval,  with  his  troops  melting  away  in  that 
manner,  has  not  the  smallest  humour  to  fire  !  At  five  o'clock 
this  morning,  as  he  lay  dreaming,  oblivious  in  the  Ecole  Mdi~ 
taire,  a  '  figure  '  stood  suddenly  at  his  bedside  :  '  with  face 
rather  handsome  ;  ej'es  inflamed,  speech  rapid  and  curt,  air 
audacious  ; '  such  a  figure  drew  Priam's  curtains  !  The  mes- 
sage and  monition  of  the  figure  was,  that  resistance  would  be 
hopeless  ;  that  if  blood  flowed,  wo  to  him  who  shed  it.  Thus 
spoke  the  figure  :  and  vanished.  '  "Withal  there  was  a  kind  of 
eloquence  that  struck  one.'  Besenval  admits  that  he  should 
have  arrested  him  but  did  not*  Who  this  figure  with  in- 
flamed eyes,  with  speech  rapid  and  curt,  might  be  ?  Besen- 
val knows,  but  mentions  not.  Camille  Desmoulins  ?  Pytha- 
gorean Marquis  Valadi,  inflamed  with  'violent  motions  all 
night  at  the  Palais  Eoyal  ? '  Fame  names  him,  'Young  M. 
Meillar  ;  'f  then  shuts  her  lips  about  him  forever. 

In  any  case,  behold  about  nme  in  the  morning,  our  National 
Volunteers  rolHng  in  long  wide  flood,  south-westward  to  the 
Hutel  des  Invalides ;  in  search  of  the  one  thing  needful.  Ring's 
Procureur  M,  Ethys  de  Corny  and  officials  are  there  ;  the  Cure 
of  Saint-Etienne  du  Mont  marches  unpacific,  at  the  head  of  his 
militant  Parish  ;  the  Clerks  of  the  Basoche  in  red  coats  we  see 
marching,  now  Volunteers  of  the  Basoche  ;  the  Volunteers  of 
the  Palais  Eoyal :  National  Volunteers,  numerable  by  tens  of 
thousands  ;  of  one  heart  and  mind.  The  King's  musket  ><  are 
the  Nation's  ;  think,  old  M.  de  Sombreuil,  how,  in  this  ex- 
tremity, thou  wilt  refuse  them  !  Old  M.  de  Sombreuil  would 
fain  hold  parley,  send  couriers  ;  but  it  skills  not :  the  walls 
are  scaled,  no  Invalide  firing  a  shot  ;  the  gates  must  be  flung 

*  Besenval,  iii.  414. 

f  Tableaux  de  la  Revolution,  Prise  de  la  Bastille  (a  Folio  Collection  of 
Pictures  and  Portraits,  with  letter-press,  not  always  uninstructive— part 
of  it  said  to  be  by  C'liamfort. 


184:  THE   TlIIItB  ESTATE. 

open.  Patriotism  rushes  in,  tumultuous,  from  grunclsel  up  to 
ridge-tile,  through  all  rooms  and  jDassages  ;  rummaging  dis- 
tractedly for  arms.  What  cellar,  or  what  cranny  can  escape 
it  ?  The  arms  are  found  ;  all  safe  there,  lying  packed  in  straw, 
— apparently  with  a  view  to  being  burnt !  More  ravenous  than 
famishing  lions  over  dead  prey,  the  multitude,  with  clangour 
and  vociferation,  pounces  on  them  ;  sti'uggling,  dashing,  clutch- 
ing ; — to  the  jamming-up,  to  the  pressure,  fracture  and  proba- 
ble extinction,  of  the  weaker  Patriot.*  And  so,  with  such  pro- 
tracted crash  of  deafening,  most  discordant  Orchestra-music, 
the  scene  is  changed ;  and  eight-aud-twenty  thousand  sufficient 
firelocks  are  on  the  shoulders  of  as  many  National  Guards, 
lifted  thereby  out  of  darkness  into  fiery  light. 

Let  Besenval  look  at  the  glitter  of  these  muskets,  as  they 
flash  by  !  Gardes  Franyaises,  it  is  said,  have  cannon  levelled 
on  him  ;  ready  to  open,  if  need  were,  from  the  other  side  of 
the  River.f  Motionless  sits  he  ;  '  astonished,'  one  may  flatter 
oneself,  '  at  the  proud  bearing  {filre  coutenance)  of  the  Paris- 
ians.'— And  now,  to  the  Bastille,  ye  intrepid  Parisians !  There 
grapeshot  still  threatens  ;  thither  all  men's  thoughts  and  steps 
are  now  tending. 

Old  de  Launay,  as  we  hinted,  withdrew  '  into  his  interior ' 
•soon  after  midnight  of  Sunday.  He  remains  there  ever  since, 
hampered,  as  all  militai-y  gentlemen  now  are,  in  the  saddest 
conflict  of  uncertainties.  The  Hutel-de-Ville  '  invites  '  him  to 
admit  National  Soldiers,  which  is  a  soft  name  for  surrendering. 
On  the  other  hand,  His  Majesty's  orders  were  precise.  His 
ganison  is  but  eighty-tsvo  old  Invalides,  reinforced  by  thirty- 
two  young  Swiss  ;  his  walls  indeed  are  nine  feet  thick,  he  has 
cannon  and  jjowder  ;  but,  alas,  only  one  day's  provision  of 
victuals.  The  city  too  is  French,  the  poor  garrison  mostly 
French,     lligorous  old  de  Launay,  think  what  thou  wilt  do  ! 

All  morning,  since  nine,  there  has  been  a  cry  every  where  : 
To  the  Bastille  !  Repeated  '  deputations  of  citizens '  have  been 
here,  passionate  for  arms  ;  whom  de  Launay  has  got  dismissed 
by  soft  speeches  through  portholes.  Towards  noon.  Elector 
Thuriot  de  la  Rosiere  gains  admittance  ;  finds  de  Launay  iu< 
♦  Deu.\  Auiis,  i.  302.  f  Besonval,  iii  41G. 


STORM  AliD   VICTORY.  1S5 

disposed  for  surrender  ;  nay  disposed  for  blowing  up  the  place 
rather.  Thuriot  mounts  with  him  to  the  battlements  :  heaps 
of  paving-stones,  old  iron  and  missiles  lie  piled  ;  cannon  aU 
duly  levelled  ;  in  every  embrasure  a  cannon, — only  drawn 
back  a  little !  But  outwards,  behold,  O  Tlmriot,  how  the 
multitude  flows  on,  welling  through  every  street :  tocsin  furi- 
ously pealing,  all  drums  beating  the  generale  :  the  Suburb 
Saint-Antoine  rolling  hitherward  wholly  as  one  man  !  Such 
vision  (spectral  yet  real)  thou,  O  Thuriot,  as  from  thy  Mount 
of  Vision,  beholdest  in  this  moment :  prophetic  of  what  other 
Phantasmagories,  and  loud-gibbering  Spectral  Kealities,  which 
thou  yet  beholdest  not,  but  shalt.  "  Que  voulez-voiis  ?  "  said 
de  Launay,  turning  pale  at  the  sight,  with  an  air  of  rej^roach, 
almost  of  menace.  "  Monsieur,"  said  Thuriot,  rising  into  the 
moral-sublime,  "  What  mean  you  ?  Consider  if  I  could  not 
precipitate  both  of  us  from  this  height,"  say  only  a  hundred 
feet,  exclusive  of  the  waUed  ditch !  Whereupon  de  Launay 
fell  silent.  Thuriot  shows  himself  from  some  pinnacle,  to 
comfort  the  multitude  becoming  suspicious,  fremescent :  then 
descends ;  departs  with  protest ;  with  warning  addressed  also 
to  the  Invalicfes, — on  whom  however,  it  produces  but  a  mixed 
indistinct  impression.  The  old  heads  are  none  of  the  clearest ; 
besides,  it  is  said,  de  Larmay  has  been  profuse  of  beverages 
{prodigua  des  buissons).  They  think,  they  will  not  fire,— if 
not  fired  on,  if  they  can  help  it  ;  but  must,  on  the  whole,  be 
ruled  considerably  by  circumstances. 

Wo  to  thee,  de  Launay,  in  such  an  hour,  if  thou  canst  not, 
taking  some  one  firm  decision,  rule  circumstances !  Soft 
speeches  wiU  not  serve,  hard  grape-shot  is  questionable  ;  but 
hovering  between  the  two  is  i/»  question  able.  Ever  wilder 
swells  the  tide  of  men  ;  their  infinite  hum  waxing  ever  louder, 
into  imprecations,  perhaps  into  crackle  of  stray  musketry, — 
which  latter,  on  walls  nine  feet  thick,  cannot  do  execution. 
The  Outer  Drawbridge  has  been  lowered  for  Thuriot ;  new 
deputations  of  citizens  (it  is  the  third,  and  noisiest  of  all)  pene- 
ti-ates  that  way  into  the  Outer  Court  :  soft  sj^eeches  produc- 
ing no  clearance  of  these,  de  Launay  gives  fire  ;  pulls  ujd  his 
Drawbridge.     A  slight  sputter  ; — which  has  kindled  the  too 


IM)  THE    THIRD   ESTATE. 

combustible  cliaos ;  made  it  a  roaring  fire-chaos !  Bursta 
forth  Insurrection,  at  sight  of  its  own  blood  (for  there  were 
deaths  by  that  sputter  of  fire,)  into  endless  rolling  exj^losion 
of  musketr}',  distraction,  execration  ; — and  over  head,  from 
the  Fortress,  let  one  great  gun,  with  its  grape-shot,  go  boom- 
ing, to  show  ^v'hat  we  could  do.     The  Bastille  is  besieged  ! 

On,  then,  all  Frenchmen,  that  have  hearts  in  your  bodies ! 
Roar  with  all  your  throats,  of  cartilage  and  metal,  j'e  Sons  of 
Liberty  ;  stir  spasmodically  whatsoever  of  utmost  faculty  is 
in  you,  soul,  body  or  spirit  ;  for  it  is  the  hour  !  Smite,  thou 
Louis  Tournay,  cartwright  of  the  Marais,  old-soldier  of  the 
Regiment  Dauphine  ;  smite  at  that  Outer  Drawbridge  chain, 
though  the  fiery  hail  W'histles  round  thee  !  Never,  over  nave 
or  felloe,  did  thy  axe  strike  such  a  stroke.  Down  with  it, 
man  ;  down  with  it  to  Orcus  :  let  the  whole  accursed  Edi- 
fice sink  thither,  and  Tyranny  be  swallowed  up  forever ! 
Mounted,  some  say,  on  the  roof  of  the  guard-room,  some  on 
*  bayonets  stuck  into  joints  of  the  wall,'  Louis  Tournay  smites, 
brave  Aubin  Bonnemere  (also  an  old  soldier)  seconding  him  : 
the  chain  yields,  breaks  ;  the  huge  Drawbridge  slams  down, 
thimderiug  {avec  fracas).  Glorious  :  and  yet,  alas,  it  is  still 
but  the  outworks.  The  Eight  grim  Towers,  Avith  their  Inva- 
lides'  musketry,  their  paving  stones  and  cannon-mouths,  still 
soar  aloft  intact ; — Ditch  yawning  impassable,  stone-faced  ; 
the  inner  Di'awbridge  with  its  back  towards  us  :  the  Bastille 
is  still  to  take  ! 

To  describe  this  Siege  of  the  Bastille  (thought  to  be  one  of 
the  most  important  in  History)  perhaps  transcends  the  talent 
of  moi-tals.  Could  one  but,  after  infinite  reading,  get  to  un- 
derstand so  much  as  the  plan  of  the  building  !  But  there  is 
open  Esplanade,  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  Saint-Antoine ;  there 
are  such  Fore-courts,  Cour  Avance,  Cour  de  V  Orme,  arched 
Gateway  (where  Louis  Tournay  now  fights)  ;  then  new  Draw- 
bridges, dormant-bridges,  rampart-bastions,  and  the  grim 
Eight  Towers  :  a  labyrinthic  Mass,  high-frowning  there,  of  all 
ages  from  twenty  years  to  four  hundred  and  twenty  ; — be- 
leaguered, iu  this  its  last  hour,  as  we  said,  by  mere  Chaoa 


STORM  AND    VICTORY.  187 

come  again  !  Ordnance  of  all  calibres  :  tli-"vats  of  all  capaci- 
ties ;  men  of  all  plans,  every  man  Lis  own  engineer :  seldom 
since  the  war  of  Pygmies  and  Cranes  was  there  seen  so  anoma- 
lous a  thing.  Half-pay  Elie  is  home  for  a  suit  of  regimentals  ; 
no  one  would  heed  him  in  coloured  clothes  :  half-pay  Hulin 
is  haranguing  Gardes  Franyaises  ra  the  Place  de  Greve. 
Frantic  Patriots  pick  up  the  grape-'iiiots  ;  bear  them,  still  hot 
(or  seemingly  so),  to  the  Hotel-dp -Yille  : — Paris,  3'ou  perceive, 
is  to  be  burnt  !  Flesseiles  is  'pale  to  the  very  lips,'  for  the 
roar  of  the  multitude  grows  dsep.  Paris  wholly  has  got  to 
the  acme  of  its  frenzy  ;  whirled  all  ways,  by  panic  madness. 
At  every  street-barricade,  there  whirls  simmering,  a  minor 
whirlpool, — strengthening  the  barricade,  since  God  knows 
what  is  coming-  ;  and  all  minor  whirlpools  play  distractedly 
into  that  grand  Fire-Mahlstrom  which  is  lashing  round  the 
Bastille. 

And  so  it  lashes  and  it  roars.  Cholat  the  wine-merchant 
has  become  an  impromptu  cannoneer.  See  Georget,  of  the 
Marine  Service,  fresh  from  Brest,  ply  the  King  of  Siam's  can- 
non. Singular  (if  we  were  not  used  to  the  like)  :  Georget 
lay,  last  night,  taking  his  ease  at  his  inn  ;  the  King  of  Siam's 
cannon  also  lay,  knowing  nothing  of  him,  for  a  hundred  years. 
Yet  now,  at  the  right  instant,  they  have  got  together,  and 
discourse  eloquent  music.  For,  hearing  what  was  toward, 
Georget  sprang  from  the  Brest  Diligence,  and  ran.  Gardes 
Franyaises  also  will  be  here,  with  real  artillery  :  were  not  the 
walls  so  thick  ! — Upwards  from  the  Esplanade,  horizontally 
from  all  neighbouring  roofs  and  windows,  flashes  one  irregu- 
lar deluge  of  musketry, — without  effect.  The  Invalides  lie 
flat,  firing  comparatively  at  their  ease  from  behind  stone  ; 
hardly  through  portholes,  show  the  tip  of  a  nose.  We  fall, 
shot ;  and  make  no  impression  ! 

Let  conflagration  rage  ;  of  whatsoever  is  combustible ! 
Guard-rooms  are  burnt,  Invalides  mess-rooms.  A  distracted 
'  Peruke-maker  with  two  fiery  torches '  is  for  burning  '  the 
saltpetres  of  the  Arsenal ; '  had  not  a  woman  run  screaming  ; 
had  not  a  Patriot,  with  some  tincture  of  Natural  Philosoph}', 
instantly  struck  the  wind  out  of  him  (butt  of  musket  on  pit  of 


188  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

stomach),  overturned  barrels,  and  stayed  the  devourmg  ele- 
ment. A  young  beautiful  lady,  seized  escaping  in  these 
Outer  Courts,  and  thought  falsely  to  be  de  Launay's  daughter, 
shall  be  burnt  in  de  Launay's  sight ;  she  Hes  swooned  on  a  pail- 
lasse :  but  again  a  Patriot,  it  is  brave  Aubin  Bounemere  the 
old  soldier,  dashes  in,  and  rescues  her.  Straw  is  burnt ; 
three  cartloads  of  it,  hauled  thither,  go  up  in  white  smoke  ; 
almost  to  the  choking  of  Patriotism  itself  ;  so  that  Elie  had, 
with  singed  brows,  to  drag  back  one  cart ;  and  Reole  the  *  gi- 
gantic haberdasher '  another.  Smoke  as  of  Tophet ;  confusion 
as  of  Babel ;  noise  as  of  the  Crack  of  Doom ! 

Blood  flows  ;  the  aliment  of  new  madness.  The  wounded 
are  carried  into  houses  of  the  Rue  Cerisaie ;  the  dying  leave 
their  last  mandate  not  to  yield  till  the  accursed  Stronghold 
fall.  And  yet,  alas,  how  fall  ?  The  walls  are  so  thick !  Dep- 
utations, three  in  number,  arrive  from  the  H6tel-de-Ville  ; 
Abbe  Fauchet  (who  was  of  one)  can  say,  with  what  almost 
superhuman  courage  of  benevolence.*  These  wave  their 
Town-flag  in  the  arched  Gateway,  and  stand,  rolling  their 
drum  ;  but  to  no  purpose.  In  such  Crack  of  Doom,  de 
Launay  cannot  hear  them,  dare  not  believe  them :  they  return 
with  justified  rage,  the  whew  of  lead  still  singing  in  their  ears. 
What  to  do  ?  The  Firemen  are  here,  squirting  with  their 
fire-pumps  on  the  Invalides'  cannon,  to  wet  the  touchholes ; 
they  unfortunately  cannot  squirt  so  high  ;  but  produce  only 
clouds  of  spray.  Individuals  of  classical  knowledge  propose 
catapults.  Santerre,  the  sonorous  Brewer  of  the  Suburb 
Saint-Antoine,  advises  rather  that  the  place  be  fired,  by  a 
'mixture  of  phosphorus  and  oil-of-turpentine  spouted  up 
through  forcing  pumps : '  O  Si^inola-SanteiTC,  hast  thou  the 
mixture  readij  ?  Every  man  his  own  engineer !  And  still  the 
fire-deluge  abates  not  :  even  women  are  firing,  and  Turks ;  at 
least  one  woman  (with  her  sweet-heart,)  and  one  Turk.f 
Gardes  Fran9aises  have  come  :  real  cannon,  real  cannoneers. 
Usher  Maillard  is  busy  ;  half-pay  Elie,  half  pay  Huliu  rage  in 
the  midst  of  thousands. 

*  Faucliet's  Narrative  (Deux  Amis,  i.  324). 
f  Deux  .\mi3  (i.  319  ,  Dusaulx,  &c. 


STOIUI  AND   VICTORY.  ISO 

How  the  great  Bastille  Clock  ticks  (inaudible)  in  its  Inner 
Court  there,  at  its  ease,  hour  after  hour  ;  as  if  nothing  special, 
for  it  or  the  world,  were  passing  !  It  tolled  One  when  the 
filing  began  ;  and  is  now  pointing  towards  Five,  and  still  the 
firing  slakes  not. — Far  down,  in  their  vaults,  the  seven  Pris- 
oners hear  muffled  din  as  of  earthquakes  ;  their  Turnkeys  an- 
swer vaguely. 

Wo  to  thee,  de  Launay,  with  thy  poor  hundred  Invalides  ! 
Broglie  is  distant,  and  his  ears  heavy  :  Besenval  hears,  but 
can  send  no  help.  One  poor  troop  of  Hussars  has  crept,  re- 
connoitring, cautiously  along  the  Quais,  as  far  as  the  Pont 
Neuf.  .  "We  are  come  to  join  you,"  said  the  Captain  ;  for  the 
crowd  seems  shoreless.  A  large-headed  dwarfish  individual, 
of  smoke-bleared  aspect,  shambles  forward,  opening  his  blue 
lips,  for  there  is  sense  in  him  ;  and  croaks  :  "  Alight  then,  and 
give  up  vour  arms !  "  The  Hussar-Captain  is  too  hapj)y  to  be 
escorted  to  the  Barriers,  and  dismissed  on  parole.  Who  the 
squat  individual  was  ?  Men  answer,  it  is  M.  Marat,  author  of 
the  excellent  pacific  Avis  au  Peiq^Ie  !  Great  truly,  O  thou  re- 
markable Dogleech,  is  this  thy  day  of  emergence  and  new- 
birth  :  and  yet  this  same  day  come  four  years ! — But  let 

the  curtains  of  the  Future  hang. 

What  shall  de  Launay  do  ?  One  thing  only  de  Launay 
could  have  done  :  what  he  said  he  would  do.  Fancy  him  sit- 
ting, from  the  first,  with  lighted  taper,  within  arm's  length  of 
the  Powder-Magazine  ;  motionless,  like  old  Koman  Senator, 
or  Bronze  Lamp-holder  ;  coldly  apprising  Thuriot,  and  all 
men,  by  a  slight  motion  of  his  eye,  what  his  resolution  was  : 
— Harmless  he  sat  there,  while  unharmed  ;  but  the  King's 
Fortress,  meanwhile,  could,  might,  would,  or  should,  in  no  wise, 
be  surrendered,  save  to  the  King's  Messenger  :  one  old  man's 
life  is  worthless,  so  it  be  lost  with  honour  ;  but  think,  ye 
brawling  canaille,  how  will  it  be  when  a  whole  Bastille  springs 
skyward  ! — In  such  statuesque,  taper-holding  attitude,  one 
fancies  de  Launay  might  have  left  Thuriot,  the  red  Clerks  of 
the  Basoche,  Cm-e  of  Saint-Stephen,  and  all  the  tagrag-and- 
bobtail  of  the  world,  to  work  their  will. 


190  THE  TRIRD  ESTATE. 

AuJ  yet,  YvitLal,  he  could  not  do  it.  Hast  thou  considered 
how  each  luan's  heart  is  so  tremulously  responsive  to  the  hearts 
of  all  men  ; — hast  thou  noted  how  omnij^otent  is  the  very 
sound  of  many  men  ?  How  their  shriek  of  indignation  palsies 
the  strong  soul ;  their  howl  of  contumely  withers  with  unfelt 
pangs  ?  The  Ritter  Gluck  confessed  that  the  ground-tone  of  the 
noblest  passage,  in  one  of  his  noblest  Operas,  was  the  voice  of 
the  Poi^ulace  he  had  heard  at  Yienna,  crj'ing  to  their  Kaiser  : 
Bread  !  Bread  !  Great  is  the  combined  voice  of  men  ;  the  ut- 
terance of  their  instincts,  which  are  truer  than  theu'  thoughts  : 
it  is  the  greatest  a  man  encounters,  among  the  sounds  and 
ehadows,  which  make  up  this  "World  of  Time.  He  who  can 
resist  that,  has  his  footing  somewhere  beyond  Time.  De  Lau- 
nay  could  not  do  it.  Distracted,  he  hovers  between  two  ; 
hopes  in  the  middle  of  despair  ;  surrenders  not  his  Fort- 
ress ;  declares  that  he  will  blow  it  up,  seizes  torches  to  blow 
it  up,  and  does  not  blow  it.  Unhappy  old  de  Launay,  it 
is  the  death-agony  of  thy  Bastille  and  Thee  !  JaU,  Jailor- 
ing  and  Jailor,  all  three,  such  as  they  may  have  been,  must 
finish. 

For  four  hours  now  has  the  World-Bedlam  roared  :  call  it 
the  World-Chimsera,  blowing  fire.  The  poor  Invalides  have 
sunk  under  their  battlements,  or  rise  only  with  reversed  mus- 
kets :  they  have  made  a  white  flag  of  napkins  ;  go  beating  the 
chamade,  or  seeming  to  beat,  for  one  can  hear  nothing.  The 
very  Swiss  at  the  Portculh's  look  weary  of  fij-ing  ;  disheart- 
ened in  the  fire-deluge :  a  porthole  at  the  drawbridge  is 
opened,  as  by  one  that  would  speak.  See  Huissier  Maillard, 
the  shifty  man  !  On  his  plank  swinging  over  the  abyss  of 
that  stone-Ditch ;  plank  resting  on  Parapet,  Ijalanced  by 
weight  of  Patriots, — he  hovers  perilous  :  such  a  Dove  towards 
such  an  Ark  !  Deftly,  thou  shifty  Usher :  one  man  ah-eady  fell ; 
and  lies  smashed,  far  down  there,  against  the  masonry  !  Usher 
M  lillard  falls  not :  deftly,  unerring  he  walks,  wuth  outspread 
palm.  The  Swiss  holds  a  paper  through  his  porthole  ;  the 
shifty  Usher  snatches  it,  and  returns.  Terms  of  surrender  : 
Pardon,  immunity  to  all!  Are  they  accepted?— " /ot  d'offi- 
cier,  On  the  word  of  an  officer,"  answei-s  half -pay  Hulin, — or 


^•OT  A   REVOLT.  191 

lialf-pay  Elie,  for  men  do  not  agree  on  it,  "  they  are  !  "  Sinks 
the  drawbi-idge, — Usher  Maillard  bolting  it  when  down  ; 
rushes-in  the  living  deluge  :  the  Bastille  is  fallen  !  Vicloire ! 
La  Bastille  est  prise  !  * 


CHAPTER  VU. 


Why  dwell  on  what  follows  ?  Hulin's  foi  d'officier  should 
have  been  kejDt,  but  could  not.  The  Swiss  stand  drawn  up, 
disguised  in  white  canvas  smocks  ;  the  Invalides  without  dis- 
guise ;  their  arms  all  piled  against  the  wall.  The  first  rush 
of  victors,  in  ecstasy  that  the  death-peril  is  passed,  '  leaps  joy- 
fully on  their  necks  ;  '  but  new  victors  rush,  and  ever  new, 
also  in  ecstasy  not  wholly  of  joy.  As  we  said,  it  was  a  living 
deluge,  plunging  headlong ;  had  not  the  Gardes  Fran9aises, 
in  their  cool  military  way, '  wheeled  round  with  arms  levelled,' 
it  would  have  plunged  suicidally,  by  the  hundj'cd  or  the 
thousand,  into  the  Bastille-ditch. 

And  so  it  goes  plunging  through  court  and  corridor  ;  bil- 
lowing uncontrollable,  firing  from  windows— on  itself :  in  hot 
frenzy  of  triumph,  of  gxief  and  vengeance  for  its  slain.  The 
poor  Invalides  will  fare  ill ;  one  Swiss,  running  off  in  his  white 
smock,  is  driven  back,  with  a  death-thrust.  Let  all  Prisoners 
be  marched  to  the  Townhall,  to  be  judged. — Alas,  already 
one  poor  Invalide  has  his  right  hand  slashed  off  him  ;  his 
maimed  body  dragged  to  the  Place  de  Greve,  and  hanged 
there.  This  same  right  hand,  it  is  said,  turned  back  de  Lau- 
nay  from  the  Powder-Magazine,  and  saved  Paris. 

De  Launay,  '  discovered  in  gray  frock  with  poppy-coloured 
riband,'  is  for  killing  himself  with  the  sword  of  his  cane.  He 
shall  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville  ;  Huhn,  Maillard  and  others  escort- 
ing him  ;  EHe  marching  foremost  '  with  the  capitulation-pa- 
per on  his  sword's  point.'     Through  roarings  and  cursings  ; 

*  Histoire  de  la  Rovolntion,  par  Denx  Amis  de  la  Libert-^,  i.  267-306. 
Besenval,  iii.  410-434.  Dusaulx  :  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  291-301.  Bailly: 
M'moires  (Collection  de  Eerville  et  BarriSre),  i.  332  et  seqq. 


192  THE   r II HID   L  ST  ATE. 

througli  liustlings,  clutcLings,  and  at  last  tlirougli  strokes! 
Your  escort  is  hustled  aside,  felled  down  ;  Huliii  sinks  ex- 
hausted on  a  heap  of  stones.  Miserable  de  Launay !  He 
shaU  never  enter  the  Hutel-de-Yille  ;  onl}^  his  '  bloodyhair- 
queue,  held  up  in  a  bloody  hand  ; '  that  shall  enter,  for  a  sign. 
The  bleeding  trunk  hes  on  the  steps  there ;  the  head  is  ofi' 
through  the  streets  ;  ghastly,  aloft  on  a  pike. 

Rigorous  de  Launay  has  died  ;  crying  out,  "  O  friends,  kill 
me  fast ! "  Merciful  de  Losme  must  die  ;  though  Gratitude 
embraces  him,  in  this  fearful  houi',  and  will  die  for  him  ;  it 
avails  not.  Brothers,  your  wrath  is  cruel !  Your  Place  de 
Greve  is  become  a  Throat  of  the  Tiger  ;  full  of  mere  tierce 
bellowiugs,  and  thii'st  of  blood.  One  other  officer  is  massa- 
cred ;  one  other  Invalide  is  hanged  on  the  Lamp-iron  ;  with 
difficulty,  with  generous  perseverance,  the  Gardes  Franyaises 
wiU  save  the  rest.  Provost  Flesselles,  stricken  long  since  with 
the  paleness  of  death,  must  descend  from  his  seat,  '  to  be 
judged  at  the  Palais  Royal : ' — alas,  to  be  shot  dead,  hy  an  un- 
known hand,  at  the  turning  of  the  first  street ! — 

O  evening  sun  of  July,  how,  at  this  horn*,  thy  beams  fall 
slant  on  reapers  amid  peaceful  woody  fields  ;  on  old  women 
spinning  in  cottages  ;  on  ships  far  out  in  the  silent  main  ;  on 
Balls  at  the  Orangerie  of  Versailles,  where  high-rouged  Dames 
of  the  Palace  are  even  now  dancing  with  double-jacketed  Hus- 
sai'-Officers  ; — and  also  on  this  roaring  Hell-porch  of  a  Hotel- 
de-Ville  !  Babel  Tower,  with  the  confusion  of  tongues,  were 
not  Bedlam  added  with  the  conflagi-ation  of  thoughts,  was  no 
type  of  it.  One  forest  of  distracted  steel  bristles,  endless,  in 
front  of  an  Electoral  Committee  ;  points  itself,  in  horrid  radii, 
against  this  and  the  other  accused  breast.  It  was  the  Titans 
wan-ing  with  Olympus ;  and  they,  scarcely  crediting  it,  have 
conquered :  prodigy  of  prodigies  ;  delirious, — as  it  could  not 
but  be.  Denunciation,  vengeance  ;  blaze  of  triumph  on  a 
dark  ground  of  terror  :  all  outw^ard,  all  inward  things  fallen 
into  one  general  wTCck  of  madness  ! 

Electoral  Committee  ?  Had  it  a  thousand  throats  of  brass, 
it  would  not  suffice.  Abbe  Lefevre,  in  the  Vaults  down  below, 
is  black  as  Vulcan,  distributing  that  '  five  thousand  weight  of 


NOT  A  REVOLT.  193 

Powder  ; '  with  what  perils,  tliese  eight-aud-f  orty  hours  !  Last 
uight,  a  Patriot,  in  liquor,  insisted  on  sitting  to  smoke  on  the 
edge  of  one  of  the  Powder-barrels  :  there  smoked  he,  inde- 
pendent of  the  world, — till  the  Abbe  'purchased  his  pij^e  for 
three  francs,'  and  pitched  it  far. 

EUe,  in  the  grand  Hall,  Electoral  Committee  looking  on,  sits 
'  with  drawn  sword  bent  in  three  jDlaces  ;'  with  battered  helm, 
for  he  was  of  the  Queen's  Eegiment,  C.xvahy  ;  with  torn  regi- 
mentals, face  singed  and  soiled  ;  comparable,  some  think,  to 
'  an  antique  warrior  ;' — judging  the  people  ;  forming  a  list  of 
BastiUe  Heroes.  O  Friends,  stain  not  with  blood  the  greenest 
laurels  ever  gained  in  this  world  :  such  is  the  burden  of  Elie's 
song  ;  could  it  but  be  listened  to.  Coux'age,  Elie  !  Courage, 
ye  Municipal  Electors  !  A  declining  sun  ;  the  need  of  victuals, 
and  of  telling  news,  will  bring  assuagement,  dispersion  ;  all 
earthly  things  must  end. 

'  Along  the  streets  of  Paris  circulate  Seven  BastiUe  Prisoners, 
borne  shoulder-high  ;  seven  Heads  on  pikes  ;  the  Keys  of  the 
Bastille  ;  and  much  else.  See  also  the  Gardes  Franyaises,  in 
their  steadfast  military  way,  marching  home  to  their  barracks, 
with  the  Invalides  and  Swiss  kindly  enclosed  in  hoUow  square. 
It  is  one  year  and  two  months  since  these  same  men  stood  un- 
participating,  with  Brennus  d'Agoust  at  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
when  Fate  overtook  d'Espremenil ;  and  now  they  have  partici- 
pated ;  and  will  participate.  Not  Gardes  Fran5aises  hence- 
forth, but  Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  National  Guard :  men  of 
iron  discipline  and  humour, — not  without  a  kind  of  thought 
in  them ! 

Likewise  ashlar  stones  of  the  Bastille  continue  thundering 
through  the  dusk  ;  its  paper  archives  shall  fly  white.  Old 
secrets  come  to  view  ;  and  long-buried  Despair  finds  voice. 
Read  this  portion  of  an  old  Letter  : *  'If  for  my  consolation 
'  Mouseigneur  would  gTant  me,  for  the  sake  of  God  and  the 
'  Most  Blessed  Trinity,  that  I  could  have  news  of  my  dear 
'  wife ;  were  it  only  her  name  on  a  card,  to  show  that  she  is 

*  Bated,  a  la  Bastille,  7  Octobre,  1752  ;  .v'r/ned  Queret-Demery.     Bas- 
tiUe Devoilee  ;  in  Linguet,  Memoires  sur  la  Bastille  (Paris,  1821),  p.  199. 
Vol.  L— 13 


194  THE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

'  alive  !  It  were  the  greatest  consolation  I  could  receive  ;  and 
'  I  should  forever  bless  the  greatness  of  Mouseigueur.'  Poor 
Prisoner,  "who  namest  thyself  Qaeret-Demery,  and  hast  no 
other  history, — she  is  dead,  that  dear  wife  of  thine,  and  thou 
art  dead !  'Tis  fifty  years  since  thy  breaking  heart  put  this 
question ;  to  be  heard  now  first,  and  long  heard,  in  the  hearts 
of  men. 

But  so  does  the  July  twilight  thicken  ;  so  must  Paris,  as 
sick  children,  and  all  distracted  creatures  do,  bi-awl  itself 
finally  into  a  kind  of  sleep.  Municipal  Electors,  astonished 
to  find  their  heads  still  uppermost,  are  home  :  only  Moreau 
de  Saint-Mery,  of  tropical  birth  and  heart,  of  coolest  judg- 
ment ;  he,  with  two  others,  shall  sit  j)ermanent  at  the  Town- 
hall.  Paris  sleeps ;  gleams  upward  the  illuminated  City : 
patrols  go  clashing,  without  common  watch-word  ;  there  go 
rumours;  alarms  of  war,  to  the  extent  of  'fifteen  thousand 
'men  marching  through  the  Suburb  Saint- Antoine,' — who 
never  got  it  marched  through.  Of  the  day's  distraction 
judge  by  this  of  the  night:  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  'before 
rising  from  his  seat,  gave  upwards  of  three  thousand  orders.'* 
What  a  head  ;  comparable  to  Friar  Bacon's  Brass  Head  ! 
Within  it  lies  all  Paris.  Prompt  must  the  answer  be,  right 
or  wrong  ;  in  Paris  is  no  other  Authority  extant.  Seriously, 
a  most  cool  clear  head  ; — for  which  also  thou,  O  brave  Saint- 
Mery,  in  many  capacities,  fz-om  august  Senator  to  Merchant's 
Clerk,  Book-dealer,  Vice-King  ;  in  many  places,  from  Virginia 
to  Sardinia,  shalt,  ever  as  a  brave  man,  find  employmentf 

Besenval  has  decamped,  under  cloud  of  dusk,  'amid  a  great 
affluence  of  people,'  who  did  not  harm  him  ;  he  marches,  with 
faint-growing  tread,  down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  all  night, 
— towai-ds  infinite  space.  Resummoned  shall  Besenval  him- 
self be  ;  for  trial,  for  difficult  acquittal.  His  King's-troops, 
his  Eoyal-Allemand,  are  gone  hence  forever. 

The  Versailles  Ball  and  lemonade  is  done  ;  the  Orangeiy  is 
silent  except  for  nigh  thirds.     Over  in  the  Salle  des  Menus, 

*  Diisaulx. 

f  Biographic  UiiiversoUe,  §  Moreau  Saiut-Mcry  hy  Founiier-rescav) 


coy qU BRING    TOUR  KIi\G.  105 

Vice-president  Lafayette,  with  unsuuifeJ  lights,  'with  some 
Huudi'ed  or  so  of  Members,  stretched  on  tables  round  him,' 
sits  erect ;  outwatching  the  Bear,  This  day,  a  second  solemn 
Deputation  went  to  his  Majesty  ;  a  second  and  then  a  third  : 
with  no  effect.     What  will  the  end  of  these  things  be  ? 

In  the  Court,  all  is  mystery,  not  without  whisperings  of 
terror  ;  though  ye  di'eam  of  lemonade  and  ejDaidettes,  j-e  fool- 
ish women  !  His  Majesty,  kept  in  happy  ignorance,  perhaps 
dreams  of  double-barrels  and  the  Woods  of  Meudon.  Late 
at  night,  the  Duke  de  Liancourt,  having  official  right  of  en- 
trance, gains  access  to  the  Koyal  Apartments  ;  unfolds,  with 
earnest  clearness,  in  his  constitutional  way,  the  Job's-news. 
"  Mais,"  said  poor  Louis,  "  c'est  une  revolte,  W^hy,  that  is  a  re- 
volt ! " — "  Sire,"  answered  Liancom-t,  "  it  is  not  a  revolt,  it  is 
a  revolution." 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

COJTQUEKING    YOUR    KING. 


On  the  morrow  a  fourth  Deputation  to  the  Chateau  is  on 
foot ;  of  a  more  solemn,  not  to  say  awful  chai'acter,  for,  be- 
sides'orgies  in  the  Orangery,' it  seems,  'the  grain-convoys 
are  all  stopped  ; '  nor  has  Mirabeau's  thunder  been  silent. 
Such  Deputation  is  on  the  point  of  setting  out, — when  lo,  his 
Majesty  himself,  attended  only  by  his  two  Brothers,  steps  in  ; 
quite  in  the  paternal  manner  ;  announces  that  the  troops,  and 
all  causes  of  offence,  are  gone,  and  henceforth  there  shaU  be 
nothing  but  trust,  reconcilement,  good-will ;  whereof  ho 
'permits,  and  even  requests,' a  National  Assembly  to  assure 
Paris  in  his  name !  Acclamation,  as  of  men  suddenly  deliv- 
ered from  death,  gives  answer.  The  whole  Assembly  sponta- 
neously rises  to  escort  his  Majesty  back  ;  '  interlacing  their 
'  ai-ms  to  keep  off  the  excessive  pi-essure  from  him  ; '  for  all 
Versailles  is  crowding  and  shouting.  The  chateau  Musicians, 
with  a  felicitous  promptitude,  strike  up  the  Sein  de  sa  Famille 
(Bosom  of  one's  Family)  :  the  Queen  appears  at  the  Balcony 
with  her  little  boy  and  girl,  '  kissing  them  several  times  ; '  in- 


196  THE  THIRD   ESTATE. 

fiuite  Vivats  spread  far  and  wide  ; — aud  suddenly  there  has 
come,  as  it  were,  a  new  Heaven-on-Earth, 

Eighty-eight  august  Senators,  Bailly,  Lafayette,  and  our 
repentant  ArchbishoiD  among  them,  take  coach  for  Paris,  with 
the  great  intelligence  ;  benedictions  without  end  on  their 
heads.  From  the  Place  Louis  Quinze,  where  they  alight,  all 
the  way  to  the  Hutel-de-Ville,  it  is  one  sea  of  Tricolor  cock- 
ades, of  clear  National  muskets  ;  one  tempest  of  huzzaiugs, 
hand-claj)pings,  aided  by  '  occasional  rollings '  of  dinim-music. 
Harangues  of  due  fervour  are  delivered  ;  especially  by  Lally 
ToUendal,  pious  son  of  the  ill-fated  murdered  Lally ;  on 
whose  head,  in  consequence,  a  civic  crown  (of  oak  or  parsley) 
is  forced, — which  he  forcibly  transfers  to  Bailly's, 

But  surely,  for  one  thing,  the  National  Guard  should  have 
a  General !  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  he  of  the  '  three  thousand 
orders,'  casts  one  of  his  significant  glances  on  the  Bust  of 
Lafayette,  which  has  stood  there  ever  since  the  American  War 
of  Liberty.  Whereuijon,  by  acclamation,  Lafayette  is  nomi- 
nated. Again,  in  room  of  the  slain  traitor  or  quasi-traitor 
Flesselles,  President  Bailly  shall  be — Provost  of  the  Mer- 
chants ■?  No  :  Mayor  of  Paris  !  So  be  it.  Maire  de  Paris  ! 
Mayor  Bailly,  General  Lafayette  ;  vim  Bailly,  vive  Lafayette  ! 
the  universal  out  of  doors  multitude  rends  the  welkin  in  con- 
firmation.— Aud  now,  finally,  let  us  to  Nutre-Dame  for  a  Te 
Deum. 

Towards  Notre-Dame  Cathedral,  in  glad  procession,  these 
Regenerators  of  the  Country  walk,  through  a  jubilant  people  ; 
ia  fraternal  manner  ;  Abbe  Lefevi'e,  still  black  with  his  gun- 
powder .  services,  walking  arm  in  arm  with  the  white-stoled 
Archbishop.  Poor  Bailly  comes  upon  the  Foundling  Chil- 
dren, sent  to  kneel  to  liim ;  and  'weeps.'  Te  Deum,  our 
Archbishop  officiating,  is  not  only  sung,  but  shut — with  blank 
cartridges.  Our  joy  is  boundless,  as  our  wo  threatened  to  be. 
Paris,  by  her  own  pike  and  musket,  and  the  valour  of  her 
own  heart,  has  conquered  the  very  war-gods, — to  the  satisfac- 
tion now  of  Majesty  itself.  A  courier  is,  this  night,  getting 
under  way  for  Necker  :  the  People's  Minister,  invited  back  by 


coxquEiuxG  Youn  kixo.  197 

France  amiJ  slioutiugs,  and  the  sound  of  trumpet  and  tim- 
brel. 


Seeing  which  course  of  things,  Messeigneurs  of  the  Court 
Triumvirate,  Messieurs  of  the  dead-born  Broglie -Ministry, 
and  other  such,  consider  that  their  part  also  is  clear :  to 
mount  and  ride.  Off,  ye  too-loyal  Broglies,  Polignacs,  and 
Princes  of  the  Blood  j  off  while  it  is  yet  time  !  Did  not  the 
Palais-Koyal  in  its  late  nocturnal  '  violent  motions,'  set  a  sj^e- 
cific  price  (place  of  payment  not  mentioned)  on  each  of  your 
heads  ? — "With  precautions,  with  the  aid  of  pieces  of  cannon 
and  regiments  that  can  be  depended  on,  Messeigneurs,  be- 
tween the  16th  night  and  the  17th  morning,  get  to  theii-  sev- 
eral roads.  Not  without  risk  !  Prince  Cond6  has  (or  seems 
to  have)  '  men  galloping  at  full  speed ; '  with  a  view,  it  is 
thought,  to  fling  him  into  the  river  Oise,  at  Pont-Sainte-May- 
ence.*  The  Polignacs  travel  disgiiised  ;  friends,  not  servants, 
on  their  coach-box.  Broglie  has  his  own  difficulties  at  Ver- 
sailles, runs  his  own  risks  at  Metz  and  Verdun  ;  does  never- 
theless get  safe  to  Luxemburg,  and  there  rests. 

This  is  what  they  call  the  First  Emigration  ;  determined 
on,  as  appears,  in  full  Court-conclave  ;  his  Majesty  assisting  ; 
prompt  he,  for  liis  share  of  it,  to  follow  any  counsel  whatsoever. 
'Three  Sons  of  France,  and  four  Princes  of  the  blood  of 
'Saint  Louis,' says  Weber,  'could  not  more  effectuaUy  hum- 
'  ble  the  Burghers  of  Paris  than  by  appearing  to  withdraw  in 
'  fear  of  their  life.'  Alas,  the  Burghers  of  Paris  bear  it  with 
unexpected  stoicism  !  The  Man  d'Ai-tois  indeed  is  gone  ;  but 
has  he  carried,  for  example,  the  Land  d'Artois  with  him? 
Not  even  Bagatelle  the  Country-house  (which  shall  be  useful 
as  a  Tavern)  ;  hardly  the  four-valet  Breeches,  leaving  the 
Breeches-maker!— As  for  old  Foulon,  one  learns  that  he  is 
dead  ;  at  least  '  a  sumptuous  funeral '  is  going  on  ;  the  imder- 
takers  honouring  him,  if  no  other  will.  Intendant  Berthier, 
his  son  in  law,  is  still  living  ;  lurking  ;  he  joined  Besenval,  on 
that  Eumenides'  Sunday  ;  appearing  to  treat  it  with  levity  ; 
and  is  now  fled  no  man  knows  whither. 
*  Weber,  ii.  126. 


V-iS  THE   TJIIIW   ESTATE. 

Tlie  Emigration  is  not  gone  many  miles,  Prince  Concle 
hardly  across  the  Oise,  when  his  Majesty,  according  to  ar- 
rangement, for  the  Emigration  also  thought  it  might  do  good, 
— undertakes  a  rather  daring  enterprise  :  that  of  visiting  Paris 
in  person.  With  a  Hundred  Members  of  Assembly  ;  with 
small  or  no  military  escort,  which  indeed  he  dismissed  at  the 
Bridge  of  Sdvres,  poor  Louis  sets  out ;  leaving  a  desolate  Pal- 
ace ;  a  Queen  Aveeping,  the  Present,  the  Past  and  the  Future 
all  so  unfriendly  for  her. 

At  the  Banier  of  Passy,  Mayor  Bailly,  in  gi'and  gala,  pre- 
sents him  with  the  ke^'S  ;  harangues  him,  in  Academic  style  ; 
mentions  that  it  is  a  great  day  ;  that  in  Henii  Quatre's  case, 
the  King  had  to  make  conquest  of  his  People,  but  in  this  hap- 
pier case,  the  People  makes  conquest  of  its  King  (a  conquis  son 
lioi).  The  King,  so  hapj^ily  conquered,  drives  forward,  slowly, 
through  a  steel  peoj^le,  all  silent,  or  shouting  only  Vice  la  Na- 
tion ;  is  harangued  at  the  Townhall,  by  Moreau  of  the  three 
thousand  orders,  by  King's  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny,  by 
Lally  Tollendal,  and  others  ;  knows  not  what  to  think  of  it,  or 
say  of  it ;  leanis  that  he  is  '  Restorer  of  French  Liberty,'— as 
a  Statue  of  him,  to  be  raised  on  the  site  of  the  Bastille,  shall 
testify  to  all  men.  Finally,  he  is  shown  at  the  Balcony,  with 
a  Tricolor  cockade  in  his  hat  ;  is  gi'eeted  now,  with  vehement 
acclamation,  from  Square  and  Street,  from  all  windows  and 
roofs  : — and  so  drives  home  again  amid  glad  mingled,  and, 
as  it  were,  intermamed  shouts  of  Vive  le  Roi  and  Vice  la  Na- 
tion ;  wearied  but  safe. 

It  was  Sunday  Avhen  the  red-hot  balls  hung  over  us,  in  mid 
air  :  it  is  now  but  Frida}',  and  'the  Revolution  is  snnctioned.' 
An  august  National  Assembly  shall  make  the  Constitution  ;  and 
neither  foreign  Pandour,  domestic  Triumvirate,  with  levelled 
Cannon,  Guy-Faux  powder-plots  (for  that  too  was  spoken  of); 
nor  any  tyrannic  Power  on  the  Earth,  or  under  the  Enrtli,  shall 
say  to  it,  ^\liat  dost  thou  ?— So  jubilates  the  People  ;  sure  now 
of  a  Constitution.  Cracked  Marquis  Saint-Huruge  is  heard 
under  the  windows  of  the  Chateau  ;  murmui-ing  sheer  specu' 
lative  treason.* 

*  Campan,  ii.  46-04. 


THE  LANTERNE.  19^ 


CHAPTEE  IX, 

THE    LANTERNE. 

The  Fall  of  the  Bastille  may  be  said  to  have  shaken  all 
France  to  the  deej)est  foundations  of  its  existence.  The  ru- 
mour of  these  wonders  flies  every  where  :  with  the  natural 
speed  of  Kumour  ;  with  an  effect  thought  to  be  preternatural, 
produced  by  plots.  Did  d'Orleans  or  Laclos,  nay  did  Mira- 
beau  (not  overbm-dened  with  money  at  this  time)  send  riding 
Coui-iers  out  from  Paris  ;  to  gallop  'on  all  radii,'  or  highways, 
towards  all  points  of  France  ?  It  is  a  miracle,  which  no  pene- 
trating man  will  caU  in  question.* 

Already  in  most  Towns,  Electoral  Committees  were  met ;  to 
regret  Necker,  in  harangue  and  resolution.  In  many  a  Town, 
as  Kennes,  Caen,  Lyons,  an  ebullient  people  was  already  re- 
gretting him  in  brickbats  and  musketry.  But  now,  at  every 
Town's-end  in  France,  there  do  arrive,  in  these  days  of  terror, 
— 'men,'  as  men  will  arrive  ;  nay,  'men  on  horseback,'  since 
Rumour  oftenest  travels  riding.  These  men  declare,  with 
alarmed  countenance.  The  Brigands  to  be  coming,  to  be  just 
at  hand  ;  and  do  then — ride  on  about  their  further  business, 
be  Avhat  it  might !  Whereupon  the  whole  population  of  such 
Town,  defensively  flies  to  ai-ms.  Petition  is  soon  thereafter 
forwarded  to  National  Assembly  ;  in  such  peril  and  terror  of 
peril,  leave  to  organise  yourself  cannot  be  withheld :  the  armed 
population  becomes  every  where  an  enrolled  National  Guard, 
Thus  rides  Rumour,  careering  along  all  radii,  from  Paris  nut- 
wards,  to  such  purpose  :  in  few  days,  some  say  in  not  many 
hours,  all  France  to  the  utmost  borders  bristles  with  bayonets. 
Singular,  but  undeniable, — miraculous  or  not ! — Bat  thus  may 
any  chemical  liquid,  though  cooled  to  the  freezing-point,  or 
far  lower,  still  continue  liquid  ;  and  then,  on  the  slightest 
stroke  or  shake,  it  at  once  rushes  wholly  into  ice.  Thus  has 
France,  for  long  months  and  even  years,  been  chemically  dealt 
*Touloiigeon  (,i.  95)  ;  Weber,  &c.,  &c. 


200  THE  TUIRD  ESTATE. 

■with  ;  brought  below  zero  ;  and  now,  shaken  by  the  Fall  of  a 
Bastille,  it  instantaneously  congeals :  into  one  crystallized 
mass,  of  sharp-cutting  steel !  Guai  a  cJii  la  tocca,  'Ware  who 
touches  it ! 

In  Paris,  an.  Electoral  Committee,  with  a  new  Mayor  and 
General,  is  urgent  with  belHgerent  workmen  to  resume  their 
handicrafts.  Strong  dames  of  the  Market  {Dames  de  la  Halle) 
deliver  congi'atulatory  harangues  ;  present  '  bouquets  to  the 
Shrine  of  Saiute  Genevieve.'  UnenroUed  men  deposit  their 
arms, — not  so  readily  as  coiild  be  wished  :  and  receive  '  nine 
francs.'  With  Te  Deuvis,  Eoyal  Visits,  and  sanctioned  ReA'o- 
lution,  there  is  halcyon  weather ;  weather  even  of  pretei*- 
natural  brightness  ;  the  hurricane  being  overblown. 

Nevertheless,  as  is  natural,  the  waves  still  run  high,  hollow 
rocks  retaining  then-  murmiu*.  We  ai'e  but  at  the  22d  of  the 
month,  hardly  above  a  week  since  the  Bastille  fell,  when  it  sud- 
denly appears  that  old  Foulon  is  ahve  ;  nay,  that  he  is  here,  in 
early  morning,  in  the  streets  of  Paris :  the  extortioner,  the 
plotter,  who  would  make  the  peo^Dle  eat  gi'ass,  and  was  a  liar 
from  the  beginning  ! — It  is  even  so.  The  deceptive  '  sump- 
tuovis  funeral '  (of  some  domestic  that  died)  ;  the  hiding-j^jlace 
at  Vitry  towards  Fontainebleau,  have  not  availed  that  wretched 
old  man.  Some  living  domestic  or  dependant,  for  none  loves 
Foulon,  has  betrayed  him  to  the  Aillage.  INIerciless  boors  of 
Vitiy  unearth  him  ;  pounce  on  him,  like  hell-hounds :  West- 
ward, old  Infamy  ;  to  Paris,  to  be  judged  at  the  Hutel-dc- 
Ville  !  His  old  head,  which  seventy-four  years  have  bleached, 
is  bare  ;  they  have  tied  an  emblematic  bundle  of  gi-ass  on  his 
back  ;  a  garland  of  nettles  and  thistles  is  round  his  neck  :  in 
this  manner  ;  led  Avith  ropes  ;  goaded  on  with  curses  and 
menaces,  must  he,  with  his  old  hmbs,  sprawl  forward  ;  the 
pitiablest,  most  unj^itied  of  all  old  men. 

Sooty  Saint-Antoine,  and  every  street,  musters  its  crowds 
as  he  passes  : — the  Hall  of  the  Hutel-de-Ville,  the  Place  de 
Gruve  itself,  will  scarcely  hold  his  escort  and  him.  Foulon 
niu.st  not  only  be  judged  righteously  ;  but  judged  there  where 
he    stands,   without   any  delay.     Appoint    seven   judges,   ye 


THE  LANTERN E.  201 

Municipals,  or  seventy-rvnd-seven  ;  name  tlieni  yourselves,  or 
we  will  name  them  :  but  judge  him  !  *  Electoral  rhetoric, 
eloquence  of  Mayor  Bailly,  is  wasted,  for  hours,  exjjilaining 
the  beauty  of  the  Law's  delay.  Delay,  and  still  delay  !  Be- 
hold, O  Mayor  of  the  People,  the  morning  lias  worn  itself  into 
noon  :  and  he  is  still  unjudged  ! — Lafayette,  pressingly  sent 
for,  arrives  ;  gives  voice :  This  Foulon,  a  known  man,  is 
guilty  almost  beyond  doubt  ;  but  may  lie  not  have  accom- 
plices ?  Ought  not  the  truth  to  be  cunningly  pumped  out  of 
him, — in  the  Abbaye  Prison  ?  It  is  a  new  light !  Sansculot- 
tism  claps  hands  ; — at  which  hand-clapping,  Foulon  (in  his 
fainness,  as  his  Destiny  would  have  it)  also  claps,  "  See  !  they 
understand  one  another  !  "  cries  darh  Sansculottism,  blazing 
into  fury  of  suspicion. — "Friends,"  said  'a  person  in  good 
clothes,'  stepping  forward,  "  what  is  the  use  of  judging  this 
man  ?  Has  he  not  been  judged  these  thirty  years  ?  "  With 
wild  yells,  Sansculottism  clutches  him,  in  its  hundred  hands  : 
he  is  whirled  across  the  Place  de  Greve,  to  the  '  Lanterne,' 
Lamp-iron  which  there  is  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Van- 
nerie  ;  pleading  bitterly  for  life, — to  the  deaf  winds.  Only 
with  the  third  rope  (for  two  ropes  broke,  and  the  quavering 
voice  still  pleaded),  can  he  be  so  much  as  got  hanged  !  His 
Body  is  dragged  through  the  streets  :  his  Head  goes  aloft  on 
a  pike,  the  mouth  filled  with  grass  :  amid  sounds  as  of  Tophet, 
from  a  grass-eating  people.f 

Surely  if  Revenge  is  a  '  kind  of  Justice,'  it  is  a  '  wild '  kind. 
O  mad  Sansculottism,  hast  thou  risen,  in  thy  mad  darkness, 
in  thy  soot  and  rags  ;  unexpectedly,  like  an  Enceladus,  living, 
buried,  from  under  his  Triuacria  ?  They  that  would  make 
grass  be  eaten  do  now  eat  grass,  in  this  manner  ?  After  long 
dumb-groaning  generations,  has  the  turn  suddenly  become 
thine  ? — To  such  abysmal  overturns,  and  frightful  instanta- 
neous inversions  of  the  centre-of-gravity,  are  human  Solecisms 
all  liable,  if  they  but  knew  it ;  the  more  liable,  the  falser  (and 
topheavier)  they  are  ! — 

*  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  145-9. 
f  Doux  Amis  de  la  Liberte,  ii.  CO-6. 


L'<'2  TUB   TllllilJ   Ei6TATE. 

To  add  to  tlie  horror  of  Mayor  Baill}'-  and  bis  Municipala, 
word  comes  that  Earthier  has  also  been  arrested  ;  that  he  is 
oa  his  way  hither  from  Compi-^gue.  Berthier,  lutendant  (say 
Tdx-lecier)  of  Paris ;  sycophant  and  tyrant ;  forestaller  of 
Corn ;  contriver  of  Camps  against  the  peoi^le  ; — accused  of 
many  things :  is  he  not  Foulon's  son-in-law  ;  and,  in  that  one 
point,  guilty  of  all?  In  these  hours  too,  when  Sansculottism 
has  its  blood  up  !  The  shuddering  Municipals  send  one  of 
their  number  to  escort  him,  with  mounted  National  Guards. 

At  the  fall  of  day,  the  -^Tetched  Berthier,  still  wearing  a 
face  of  courage,  an-ives  at  the  Barrier ;  in  an  open  carriage  ; 
with  the  MuniciiJal  beside  him  ;  five  hundred  horsemen  with 
drawn  sabres  ;  unarmed  footmen  enough  :  not  withoiit  noise  ! 
Placards  go  brandished  round  him  ;  bearing  legibly  his  in- 
dictment, as  Sansculottism,  with  unlegal  brevity,  '  in  huge 
letters,'  draws  it  up.*  Paris  is  come  forth  to  meet  him  :  with 
haud-clappings,  with  windows  flung  up  ;  with  dances,  tri- 
umph-songs, as  of  the  Furies.  Lastly  the  Head  of  Foulon  : 
this  fdso  meets  him  on  a  pike.  Well  might  his  '  look  become 
glaze;!,'  and  sense  fail  him,  at  such  sight ! — Nevertheless,  be 
the  man's  conscience  what  it  may,  his  nerves  are  of  iron.  At 
the  H  jtel-de-Ville,  he  will  answer  nothing.  He  saj's  he 
obeyed  superior  order  ;  they  have  his  papei'S  ;  they  may  judge 
and  determine  :  as  for  himself,  not  having  closed  an  eye  these 
two  nights,  he  demands,  before  all  things,  to  have  sleep. 
Leaden  sleep,  thou  miserable  Bsrthier !  Guards  rise  with 
him,  in  motion  towards  the  Abbaye.  At  the  very  door  of  the 
H5tel-de-Yille,  they  are  clutched  ;  flung  asunder,  as  by  a  vor- 
tex of  mad  arms  ;  Berthier  whirls  towards  the  Lanterne.  He 
snatches  a  musket  ;  fells  and  strikes,  defending  himself  like  a 
mad  lion  :  is  borne  down,  trampled,  hanged,  mangled  :  his 
head  too,  and  even  his  heart,  flies  over  the  City  on  a  pike. 

Horrible,  in  Lands  that  had  known  equal  justice  !  Not  so 
unnatural  in  Lands  that  had  never  known  it.     "  Le  sanrj  qui 

*  *  11  a  vole  le  Rot  ct  la  France  (He  robbed  thj  King  anl  France). 
'  He  devoured  the  substance  of  the  People.'  '  He  was  the  slave  of  the 
'  rich  and  the  tyrant  of  the  poor  '  '  He  drank  the  blood  of  the  widow 
'and  orphan.'     'He  betrayed  his  country.' — /X'f  Deux  Amis,  ii.  67-73. 


TUE  LANTERNE.  203 

coule  est-il  done  si  pi«-l*"aslcs  Baruave ;  intimating  tbat  tlie 
Gallows,  though  by  irregular  methods,  has  its  own.  Thou 
thyself,  0  Reader,  when  thou  turnest  that  corner  of  the  Eue 
de  la  Vannerie,  and  discernest  still  that  same  grim  Bracket  of 
old  Iron,  wilt  not  want  for  reflexions.  '  Over  a  grocer's  shop,' 
or  otherwise  ;  with  '  a  bust  of  Louis  XIV.  in  the  niche  under 
it,'  or  now  no  longer  in  the  niche, — it  still  sticks  there  ;  still 
holding  out  an  ineffectual  light,  of  fish-oil;  and  has  seen 
worlds  wrecked,  and  says  nothing. 

But  to  the  eye  of  enlightened  Patriotism,  what  a  thunder- 
cloud was  this  ;  suddenly  shaping  itself  in  the  radiance  of  the 
halcyon  weather !  Cloud  of  Erebus  blackness  ;  betokening 
latent  electricity  without  limit.  Mayor  Bailly,  General  La- 
fayette throw  up  their  commissions  in  an  indignant  manner  ; 
—need  to  be  flattered  back  again.  The  cloud  disappears,  as 
thunder-clouds  do.  The  halcyon  weather  returns,  though  of 
a  gi-ayer  complexion  ;  of  a  character  more  and  more  evidently 
not  supernatural. 

Thus,  in  any  ease,  wdth  what  rubs  soever,  shall  the  Bastille 
be  abohshed  from  our  Earth  ;  and  with  it,  FeudaUsm,  Des- 
potism ;  and,  one  hopes,  Scoundrelism  generally,  and  all  hard 
usage  of  man  by  his  brother  man.  Alas,  the  Scoundrelism 
and  hard  usage  are  not  so  easy  of  abolition !  But  as  for  the 
Bastille,  it  sinks  day  after  day,  and  month  after  month  ;  its 
ashlars  and  boulders  tumbling  down  continually,  by  express 
order  of  our  Municipals.  Crowds  of  the  curious  roam  through 
its  caverns  ;  gaze  on  the  skeletons  found  walled-up,  on  the 
oubliettes,  iron  cages,  monstrous  stone-blocks  with  padlock 
chains.  One  day  we  discern  Mirabeau  there  ;  along  with  the 
Genevese  Dumont.*  Workers  and  onlookers  make  reverent 
way  for  him  ;  fling  verses,  flowers  on  his  path,  Bastille-pajDers 
and  curiosities  into  his  carriage,  with  vivats. 

Able  Editors  compile  Books  from  the  Bastille  Archices; 
from  what  of  them  remain  unburn t.  The  Key  of  that  Rob- 
ber-Den shall  cross  the  Atlantic,  shall  He  on  Washington's 
hall-table.  The  great  Clock  ticks  now  in  a  private  patriotic 
*  Dumont :  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  305. 


204  rilE  THIRD  ESTATE. 

Clockmaker's  apartment ;  no  longer  measuring  hours  of  mere 
heaviness.  Vanished  is  the  Bastille,  what  we  call  vanished  : 
the  body,  or  sandstones,  of  it  hanging,  in  benign  metamor- 
phosis, for  centuries  to  come,  over  the  Seine  waters,  as  Font 
Louis  Seize  ;*  the  soul  of  it  living,  perhaps  still  longer,  in  the 
memories  of  men. 

So  far,  ye  august  Senators,  with  your  Tennis-Court  Oaths, 
your  inertia  and  impetus,  your  sagacity  and  pertinacity,  have 
ye  brought  us.  "  And  yet  think.  Messieurs,"  as  the  Petition- 
ers justly  ui-ged,  "  you  who  were  our  saviours,  did  yourselves 
need  saviours," — the  brave  Bastillers,  namely  ;  workmen  of 
Paris  ;  many  of  them  in  straitened  pecuniary  circumstances  !f 
Subscriptions  are  opened  ;  Lists  are  formed,  more  accurate 
than  Elie's  ;  harangues  are  delivered.  A  Body  of  BaMle 
Heroes,  tolerably  complete,  did  get  together  ;  comparable  to 
the  Argonauts  ;  hoping  to  endure  like  them.  But  in  little 
more  than  a  year,  the  whirlpool  of  things  threw  them  asunder 
again,  and  they  sank.  So  many  highest  superlatives  achieved 
by  man  are  followed  by  new  higher  ;  and  dwindle  into  com- 
paratives and  positives  !  The  Siege  of  the  Bastille,  weighed 
with  which,  in  the  Historical  balance,  most  other  sieges,  in- 
cluding that  of  Troy  Town,  are  gossamer,  cost,  as  we  find,  in 
killed  and  mortally  wounded,  on  the  part  of  the  Besiegers, 
some  Eighty-three  persons  :  on  the  part  of  the  Besieged,  after 
all  that  straw-burning,  fire-pumping,  and  deluge  of  musketry, 
One  poor  solitary  Invalid,  shot  stone-dead  (roide-morl)  on  the 
battlements  !  J  The  Bastille  Fortress,  Uke  the  City  of  Jericho, 
was  overturned  by  miraculous  sound. 

■  Dulaure :  Histoire  de  Paris,  viii.  434. 

J  Moniteur  :  Seance  du  Samedi  18  juillet,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlemen' 
taire,  ii.  137). 
I  Dusaulx:  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  p.  447,  &c 


BOOK  YL 


CONSOLIDATION. 
CHAPTER  I. 

MAKE    THE   CONSTITUTION. 

Here  perhaps  is  the  place  to  fix,  a  little  more  precisely, 
what  these  two  words,  French  Revolution,  shall  mean  ;  for, 
strictly  considered,  they  may  have  as  many  meanings  as  there 
are  speakers  of  them.  All  things  are  in  revolution  ;  in  change 
from  moment  to  moment,  which  becomes  sensible  from  epoch 
to  epoch:  in  this  Time-World  of  ours  there  is  properly  nothing 
else  but  revolution  and  mutation,  and  even  nothing  else  con- 
ceivable. Revolution,  you  answer,  means  speedier  change. 
Whereupon  one  has  still  to  ask  :  How  sj)eedy  ?  At  what  de- 
gree of  speed  ;  in  what  particular  points  of  this  variable 
course,  which  varies  in  velocity,  but  can  never  stop  till  Time 
itself  stops,  does  revolution  begin  and  end  ;  cease  to  be  or- 
dinary mutation,  and  again  become  such  ?  It  is  a  thing  that 
will  depend  on  definition  more  or  less  arbitrary. 

For  ourselves,  we  answer  that  French  Revolution  means 
here  the  open  violent  Rebellion,  and  Victory,  of  disimprisoned 
Anarchy  against  coiTupt  worn-out  authority  :  how  Anarchy 
breaks  prison  ;  bursts  up  from  the  infinite  Deep,  and  rages 
uncontrollable,  immeasurable,  enveloping  a  world  ;  in  phasis 
after  jjhasis  of  fever-frenzy  ; — till  the  frenzy  burning  itself  out, 
and  what  elements  of  new  Order  it  held  (since  all  Force  holds 
such)  developing  themselves,  the  Uncontrollable  be  got,  if  not 
reimprisoned,  yet  harnessed,  and  its  mad  forces  made  to  work 
towards  their  object  as  sane  regulated  ones.  For  as  Hier- 
archies and  D^-nasties  of  all  kinds,  Theocracies,  Aristocracies, 
Autocracies,  Strumpetocracies,  have  ruled  the   world  ;  so  it 


206  coy  SOLID  ATIOir. 

was  appointed,  in  the  decrees  of  Providence,  tliat  this  same 
Victorious  Anarch}',  Jacobinism,  Sansculottism,  French  Revo- 
lution, Horrors  of  French  Revolution,  or  what  else  mortals 
name  it,  should  have  its  turn.  The  '  destructive  wrath '  of 
S?#sculottism  :  this  is  what  we  speak,  having  unhapjDily  no 
voice  for  singing. 

Surely  a  great  Phenomenon  :  nay  it  is  a  transcendental  one, 
overstepping  all  rules  and  experience  ;  the  crowning  Phe- 
nomenon of  our  Modern  Time.  For  here  again,  most  unex- 
pectedly, comes  antique  Fanaticism  in  new  and  newest  vest- 
ure ;  miraculous,  as  all  Fanaticism  is.  Call  it  the  Fanaticism 
of  'making  away  with  formulas,  de  humer  desformules.'  The 
world  of  formulas,  ihe  formed  regulated  Avorld,  which  all  hab- 
itable world  is,— must  needs  hate  such  Fanaticism  like  death  ; 
and  be  at  deadly  variance  with  it.  The  world  of  formulas 
must  conquer  it ;  or  failing  that,  must  die  execrating  it, 
anathematising  it ; — can  nevertheless  in  no  wise  prevent  its 
being  and  its  having  been.  The  Anathemas  are  there,  and 
the  miraculous  Thing  is  there. 

"Whence  it  cometh  ?  "Whither  it  goeth  ?  There  are  ques- 
tions !  When  the  age  of  Miracles  lay  faded  into  the  distance 
as  an  incredible  tradition,  and  even  the  age  of  Conventionalities 
was  now  old  ;  and  Man's  Existence  had  for  long  generations 
rested  on  mere  formulas  which  were  grown  hollow  by  course 
of  time  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  no  Reality  any  longer  existed, 
but  only  Phantasms  of  realities,  and  God's  Universe  were  the 
work  of  the  Tailor  and  Upholsterer  mainly,  and  men  were 
buckram  masks  that  went  about  becking  and  gi'imaciug 
there,— on  a  sudden,  the  Earth  yawns  asunder,  and  amid  Tar- 
tarean smoke,  and  glare  of  fierce  brightness,  arises  S.\nsculot- 
TisM,  many-headed,  fire-breathing,  and  asks :  What  think  ye 
of  me  ?  Well  may  the  buckram  masks  start  togethei*,  terror- 
struck  ;  '  into  expressive  well-concerted  groups ! '  It  is,  in- 
deed, Friends,  a  most  singular,  most  fatal  thing.  Let  whoso- 
ever is  but  buckram  and  a  phantasm,  look  to  it :  ill  verily 
may  it  fare  with  him  ;  hei-e  methinks  he  cannot  much  longer 
be.  Wo  also  to  many  a  one  who  is  not  Avholly  buckram,  but  par- 
tially real  and  human  !     The  age  of  IMii-acles  has  come  back  I 


makl;  the  constitution.  207 

'  Behold  the  World-Phoenix,  in  fire-consummation  and  fire- 
'  creation  ;  wide  are  her  fanning  wings  ;  loud  is  her  death- 
'  melody,  of  battle-thunders  and  falling  towns  ;  skyward  Lishes 
'  the  funeral  flame,  enveloping  all  things  :  it  is  the  Death-Birth 
'  of  a  World  ! ' 

Whereby,  however,  as  we  often  say,  shall  one  unspeakable 
blessing  seem  attainable.  This,  namely  :  that  Man  and  his 
Life  rest  no  more  on  hollowness  and  a  Lie,  but  on  solidity 
and  some  kind  of  Truth.  W^elcome  the  beggarliest  truth,  so 
it  be  one,  in  exchange  for  the  royallest  sham  !  Truth  of  any 
kind  breeds  ever  new  and  better  truth  ;  thus  hard  granite 
rock  w'ill  crumble  down  into  soil,  under  the  blessed  skyey  in- 
fluences ;  and  cover  itself  with  verdure,  with  fruitage  and 
umbrage.  But  as  for  Falsehood,  which,  in  like  contrary 
manner,  grows  ever  falser, — what  can  it,  or  what  should  it  do 
but  decease,  being  ripe ;  decompose  itself,  gently  or  even 
violently,  and  return  to  the  Father  of  it, — too  probably  in 
flames  of  fire  ? 

Sansculottism  will  burn  much  ;  but  what  is  incombustible 
it  will  not  burn.  Fear  not  Sansculottism  ;  recognise  it  for 
what  it  is,  the  portentous  inevitable  end  of  much,  the  mirac- 
ulous beginning  of  much.  One  other  thing  thou  mayest 
understand  of  it :  that  it  too  came  from  God  ;  for  has  it  not 
been  ?  From  of  old,  as  it  is  written,  are  His  goings  forth  ;  in 
the  great  Daep  of  things  ;  fearful  and  wonderful  now  as  in 
the  beginning  :  in  the  whirlwind  also  He  speaks  ;  and  the 
Avrath  of  men  is  made  to  praise  Him. — But  to  gauge  and 
measure  this  immeasurable  Thing,  and  what  is  called  account 
for  it,  and  reduce  it  to  a  dead-logic-formula,  attempt  not ! 
Much  less  shalt  thou  shriek  thyself  hoarse  cursing  it ;  for 
that,  to  all  needful  lengths,  has  been  already  done.  As  an  ac- 
tually existing  Son  of  Time,  look,  with  unspeakable  manifold 
interest,  oftenest  in  silence,  at  what  the  Time  did  bring  : 
therewith  edify,  instruct,  nourish  thyself,  or  were  it  but 
amuse  and  gratify  thyself,  as  it  is  given  thee. 

Another  question  winch  at  every  new  turn  will  rise  on  us, 
requiring  ever  new  reply,  is  this  :  Where  the  French  Kevolu- 


208  coy.iOLiBA  Ti  ox. 

tiou  specially  is  ?  In  the  King's  Palace,  in  his  Majesty's  oi 
her  Majesty's  managements,  and  maltreatments,  cabals,  im- 
becilities and  woes,  answer  some  few : — whom  we  do  not 
answer.  In  the  National  Assembly,  answer  a  large  mixed 
multitude  :  who  accordingly  seat  themselves  in  the  Rejiorter's 
Chair ;  and  therefrom  noting  what  Proclamations,  Acts,  Re- 
ports, passages  of  logic-fence,  bursts  of  parliamentary  elo- 
quence seem  notable  within  doors,  and  what  tumults  and 
rumours  of  tumult  become  audible  from  without, — produce 
volume  on  volume  ;  and,  naming  it  History  of  the  French 
Revolution,  contentedly  publish  the  same.  To  do  the  like,  to 
almost  any  extent,  with  so  many  Filed  Newspapers,  Choix  des 
Bapportfi,  Htsloires  Farleineniaires  as  thei-e  are,  amounting  to 
many  horse-loads,  were  easy  for  ns.  Easy  but  unprofitable. 
The  National  Assembly,  named  now  Constituent  Assembly, 
goes  its  course  ;  making  the  Constitution  ;  but  the  French 
Revolution  also  goes  its  course. 

In  general,  may  we  not  say  that  the  French  Revolution  lies 
in  the  heart  and  head  of  every  violent-speaking,  of  every 
violent-thinking  French  Man  ?  How  the  Twenty-five  Millions 
of  such,  in  their  perplexed  combination,  acting  and  counter- 
acting, may  give  bii'th  to  events  ;  which  event  successively  is 
the  cardinal  one  ;  and  from  Avhat  point  of  vision  it  may  best 
be  surveyed  :  this  is  a  jDroblem.  Which  problem  the  best  in- 
sight, seeking  light  from  all  possible  sources,  shifting  its 
point  of  vision  whithersoever  vision  or  glimpse  of  vision  can 
be  had,  may  employ  itself  in  solving  ;  and  be  well  content  to 
solve  in  some  tolerably  approximate  way. 

As  to  the  National  Assembly,  in  so  far  as  it  still  towers  emi- 
nent over  France,  after  the  manner  of  a  car-borne  Carroccio, 
though  now  no  longer  in  the  van  ;  and  rings  signals  for 
retreat  or  for  advance, — it  is  and  continues  a  reality  among 
other  realities.  But  in  so  far  as  it  sits  making  the  Constitu- 
tion, on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  fatuity  and  chimera  mainly. 
Alas,  in  the  never  so  heroic  building  of  Montesquieu-Mably 
card-castles,  though  shouted  OA^er  by  the  world,  what  interest 
is  there  ?  Occupied  in  that  way,  an  august  National  Assembly 
becomes  for  us  little  other  than  a  Sanhedrim  of  Pedants,  not 


MAKE    TUB  CONSTITuTIOK  209 

of  the  geruucl-gTiuding,  yet  of  no  fruitfuller  sort ;  and  its  loud 
debatings  and  recriminations  about  Rights  of  Man,  Eight  of 
Peace  and  War,  Veto  SHf<pensif,  Veto  absolu,  what  are  they 
but  so  many  Pedant's  cui-ses,  "  May  God  confound  you  for 
your  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs." 

A  Constitution  can  be  built,  Constitutions  enough  d  la 
Sieijes :  but  the  frightful  difficulty  is  that  of  getting  men  to 
come  and  live  in  them  !  Could  Sieyes  have  drawn  thunder 
and  lightning  out  of  Heaven  to  sanction  his  Constitution,  it 
had  been  well :  but  without  any  thunder  ?  Nay,  strictly  con- 
sidered, is  it  not  still  true  that  without  some  such  celestial 
sanction,  given  visibly  in  thuuder  or  invisibly  otherwise*  no 
Constitution  can  in  the  long  run  be  worth  much  more  than 
the  waste  paper  it  is  written  on  ?  The  Constitution,  the  set 
of  Laws,  or  prescribed  Habits  of  Acting,  that  men  will  live 
under,  is  the  one  which  images  their  Convictions, — their  Faith 
as  to  this  wondrous  Universe,  and  what  rights,  duties,  capa- 
bilities they  have  there  :  which  stands  sanctioned,  therefore, 
by  Necessity  itself  ;  if  not  by  a  seen  Deity  then  by  an  unseen 
one.  Other  Laws,  whereof  there  are  always  enough  ready- 
made,  are  usurj^ations  ;  v/hich  men  do  not  obey,  but  rebel 
against,  and  abolish,  by  their  earliest  convenience. 

The  question  of  questions  accoi'dingiy  were.  Who  is  it  that, 
especially  for  rebellers  and  abolishers,  can  make  a  Constitu- 
tion ?  He  that  can  image  forth  the  general  Belief  when  there 
is  one  ;  that  can  impart  one  when,  as  here,  there  is  none.  A 
most  rare  man  ;  ever  as  of  old  a  god-missioned  man  !  Here, 
however,  in  defect  of  such  transcendent  supreme  man.  Time 
with  its  infinite  succession  of  merely  superior  men,  each 
yielding  his  little  contribution,  does  much.  Force  likewise 
(for,  as  Antiquarian  Philosophers  teach,  the  royal  Sceptre  was 
from  the  first  something  of  a  Hammer,  to  crack  such  heads  as 
could  not  be  convinced)  will  all  along  find  somewhat  to  do. 
And  thus  in  perpetual  abolition  and  reparation,  rending  and 
mending,  with  struggle  and  strife,  with  present  evil  and  the 
hope  and  effort  towards  future  good,  must  the  Constitution, 
as  all  human  things  do,  build  itself  forward  ;  or  unbuild  itself, 
Vol.  I. -14 


210  CONSOLIIJATION. 

and  sink,  as  it  can  and  may,  O  Sieves,  and  ye  other  Coni- 
niittee-Meu,  and  Twelve  Hundred  miscellaneous  individuals 
from  all  parts  of  France  !  What  is  the  Belief  of  France,  and 
yours,  if  ye  knew  it  ?  Properly  that  there  shall  be  no  BeUef  ; 
that  all  formulas  be  swallowed.  The  Constitution  Avhich 
Avill  suit  that  ?  Alas,  too  clearly,  a  No-Constitution,  au 
Anarchy  ; — which  also,  in  due  season,  shall  be  vouchsafed 
you. 

But,  after  all,  what  can  an  unfortunate  National  Assembly 
do  ?  Consider  only  this,  that  there  are  Twelve  Hundred  mis- 
cellaneous individuals  ;  not  a  unit  of  whom  but  has  his  own 
thinking-apparatus,  his  own  speaking-apparatus !  In  every 
unit  of  them  is  some  belief  and  wish  different  for  each,  both 
that  France  should  be  regenerated,  and  also  that  he  individu- 
ally should  do  it.  Twelve  Hundred  separate  Forces,  yoked 
miscellaneously  to  any  object,  miscellaneously  to  all  sides  of 
it  ;  and  bidden  j)ull  for  life  ! 

Or  is  it  the  nature  of  National  Assemblies  generally  to  do, 
with  endless  labour  and  clangoui-,  Nothing?  Are  Represent- 
ative Governments  mostly  at  bottom  Tj'rannies  too  ?  Shall 
we  say,  the  Tyrants,  the  ambitious  contentious  Persons,  froni 
all  comers  of  the  country  do,  in  this  manner,  get  gathered 
into  one  place  ;  and  there  with  motion  and  counter-motion, 
with  jargon  and  hubbub,  cancel  one  another,  like  the  fabulous 
Kilkenny  Cats  ;  and  produce,  for  net-result,  zero  ; — the  coun- 
try meanwhile  governing  or  guiding  itself,  by  such  wisdom, 
recognised,  or  for  most  part  unrecognised,  as  may  exist  in 
individual  heads  here  and  there  ? — Naj-,  even  that  were  a 
gTeat  improvement :  for,  of  old,  with  their  Guelf  Factions  and 
Ghibelline  Factions,  with  their  Red  Roses  and  "White  Roses, 
they  Avere  wont  to  cancel  the  Avhole  country  as  well.  Besides, 
they  do  it  now  in  a  much  narrower  cockj^it  ;  within  the  four 
walls  of  their  Assembly  House,  and  here  and  there  au  outjDost 
of  Hustings  and  Birrel-Heads  ;  do  it  with  tongues  too,  not 
with  swords : — all  which  improvements,  in  the  art  of  pro- 
ducing zero,  are  the}'^  not  great  ?  Nay,  best  of  all,  some 
happy  Continents  (as  the  "Western  one,  with  its  Savannahs, 
where  whosoever  has  four  willing  limbs  finds  food  under  his 


THE   CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY.  211 

feet,  and  an  infinite  sky  over  his  head)  can  do  without  govern- 
ing.— What  Sphinx-questions  ;  which  the  distracted  world,  in 
these  very  generations,  must  answer  or  die. 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE    CONSTITUENT    ASSEMBLY, 


One  thing  an  elected  Assembly  of  Twelve  Hundred  is  fit  for. 
Destroying.  Which  indeed  is  but  a  more  decided  exercise  ol 
its  natural  talent  for  Doing  Nothing.  Do  nothing,  only  keep 
agitating,  debating  ;  and  things  will  destroy  themselves. 

So  and  not  otherwise  proved  it  with  an  august  National  As- 
sembly. It  took  the  name.  Constituent,  as  if  its  mission  and 
function  had  been  to  construct  or  build  ;  which  also,  with  its 
whole  soul,  it  endeavoured  to  do  :  yet,  in  the  fates,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  there  lay  for  it  precisely  of  all  functions  the 
most  opposite  to  that.  Singular,  what  Gospels  men  will 
believe  ;  even  Gospels  according  to  Jean  Jacques !  It  was 
the  fixed  Faith  of  these  National  DejDuties,  as  of  all  think- 
ing Frenchmen,  that  the  Constitution  could  be  made ;  that 
they,  there  and  then,  were  calljd  to  make  it.  How,  with  the 
touglmess  of  old  Hebrews  or  Ishmaelite  Moslem,  did  the 
otherwise  light  unbelieving  People  persist  in  this  their  Credo 
quia  impossibile  ;  and  front  the  armed  world  with  it ;  and  grow 
fanatic,  and  even  heroic,  and  do  exj^loits  by  it !  The  Consti- 
tuent Assembly's  Constitution,  and  several  others,  will,  being 
printed  and  not  manuscript,  survive  to  future  generations,  as 
an  instructive  well-nigh  incredible  document  of  the  Time  : 
the  most  significant  Picture  of  the  then  existing  France  ;  or 
at  lowest.  Picture  of  these  men's  Picture  of  it. 

But  in  truth  and  seriousness,  what  could  the  National  As- 
sembly have  done  ?  The  thing  to  be  done  was,  actually  as 
they  said,  to  regenerate  France  :  to  abolish  the  old  France, 
and  make  a  new  one  ;  quietly  or  forcibly,  by  concession  or  by 
violence,  this  by  the  Law  of  Nature,  has  become  inevitable. 
With  what  degree  of  violence,  depends  on  the  wisdom  of 
those  that  preside  over  it.     With  perfect  wisdom  on  the  part 


212  VONSOLJDATION. 

of  the  Natioual  Assembly,  it  had  all  been  otherwise  ;  but 
whether,  in  any  wise,  it  could  have  beeu  pacific,  nay  other 
than  blood}^  and  convulsive,  may  still  be  a  question. 

Grant,  meanwhile,  that  this  Constituent  Assembly  does  to 
the  last  continue  to  be  something.  With  a  sigh,  it  sees  itself 
incessantly  forced  away  from  its  infinite  divine  task,  of  per- 
fecting 'the  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs,' — to  finite  terrestrial 
tasks,  which  latter  have  still  a  significance  for  us.  It  is  the 
cynosure  of  revolutionary  France,  this  National  Assembly. 
All  work  of  Government  has  fallen  into  its  hands,  or  under  its 
control  ;  all  men  look  to  it  for  guidance.  In  the  middle  of 
that  huge  Kevolt  of  Twenty-five  milUons,  it  hovers  always 
aloft  as  Carroccio  or  Battle  Standard,  impelling  and  impelled, 
in  the  most  confused  way  ;  if  it  cannot  give  much  guidance, 
it  will  still  seem  to  give  some.  It  emits  pacificatory  Procla- 
mations, not  a  few  ;  with  more  or  with  less  result.  It  author- 
ises the  enrolment  of  National  Guards,— lest  Brigands  come 
to  devour  us,  and  reap  the  unripe  crops.  It  sends  missions 
to  quell  '  effervescences  ; '  to  dehver  men  from  the  Lanterno. 
It  can  listen  to  congratulatory  Addresses,  which  arrive  daily 
by  the  sackful :  mostly  in  King  Cambyses'  vein  :  also  to  Peti- 
tions and  complaints  from  all  mortals  ;  so  that  every  mortal's 
complaint,  if  it  cannot  get  redressed,  may  at  least  hear  itself 
complain.  For  the  rest,  an  august  National  Assembly  can 
produce  Parliamentary  Eloquence  ;  and  appoint  Committees. 
Committees  of  the  Constitution,  of  Reports,  of  Researches ; 
and  of  much  else  :  which  again  yield  mountains  of  Printed 
Paper;  the  theme  of  new  Parliamentary  Eloquence,  iu  bursts, 
or  in  plenteous  smooth-flowing  floods.  And  so,  from  the 
waste  vortex  whereon  all  things  go  whirling  and  grinding, 
Organic  Laws,  or  tlie  similitude  of  such,  slowly  emerge. 

With  endless  debating,  we  get  the  Ririhls  of  Man  written 
down  and  promulgated  :  true  paper  basis  of  all  paper  Consti- 
tutions. Neglecting,  cry  the  opponents,  to  declare  the  Duties 
of  Man !  Forgetting,  answer  we,  to  ascertain  the  Mights  of 
Man  ; — one  of  the  fatalcst  omissions  !— Nay,  sometimes,  as  on 
the  Fourth  of  August,  our  National  Assembly,  fired  suddenly 


THE  CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY.  213 

6y  an  almost  preternatural  enthusiasm,  will  get  through  whole 
masses  of  work  in  one  night.  A  memorable  night,  this  Fourth 
of  August :  Dignitaries  temporal  and  spiritual ;  Peers,  Ai'ch- 
bishops,  Parlement-Presidents,  each  outdoing  the  other  in 
patriotic  devoteduess,  come  successively  to  throw  their  now 
untenable  possessions  on  the  'altar  of  the  fatherland.'  With 
louder  and  louder  vivats,  for  indeed  it  is  'after  dinner'  too, — 
they  abolish  Tithes,  Seignorial  Dues,  GabeUe,  excessive  pre- 
servation of  Game  ;  nay.  Privilege,  Immunity,  Feudalism  root 
and  branch  ;  then  appoint  a  Te  Deum  for  it ;  and  so,  finally, 
disperse  about  three  in  the  morning,  striking  the  stars  with 
tbeir  sublime  heads.  Such  night,  unforeseen,  but  for  ever 
memorable,  was  this  of  the  Fourth  of  August,  1789.  Miracu- 
lous, or  semi -miraculous,  some  seem  to  think  it.  A  new  Night 
of  Pentecost,  shall  we  say,  shaped  according  to  the  new  Time, 
and  new  Church  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  ?  It  had  its 
causes ;  also  its  effects. 

In  such  manner  labour  the  National  Deputies  ;  perfecting 
theiv  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs  ;  governing  France,  and  be- 
ing governed  by  it ;  with  toil  and  noise  ; — cutting  asunder 
ancient  intolerable  bonds  :  and,  for  new  ones,  assiduously 
spinning  ropes  of  sand.  Were  theu-  labours  a  nothing  or  a 
something,  yet  the  eyes  of  all  France  being  reverently  fixed 
on  them.  History  can  never  very  long  leave  them  altogether 
out  of  sight. 

For  the  present,  if  we  glance  into  that  Assembly  Hall  of 
theirs,  it  wiU  be  found,  as  is  natural,  'most  irregular.'  As 
many  as  '  a  hundred  members  are  on  their  feet  at  once  ; '  no 
rule  in  making  motions,  or  only  commencements  of  a  rule  ; 
Spectators'  Gallery  allowed  to  applaud,  and  even  to  hiss  ;  * 
President,  appointed  once  a  fortnight,  raising  many  times  no 
serene  head  above  the  waves.  Nevertheless,  as  in  all  human 
Assemblages,  like  does  begin  arranging  itself  to  like  ;  the  per- 
ennial rule,  Uhi  homines  sunt  modi  sunt,  proves  valid.  Rudi- 
ments of  Methods  disclose  themselves  ;  rudiments  of  Partiea 

*  Artliur  Young,  i.  111. 


214:  CONSOLIDATION. 

There  is  a  Right  Side  [Cole  Droit),  a  Left  Side  {Cote  Gauche) ; 
sitting  on  ]\L  le  President's  right  hand,  or  on  his  left :  the 
(Jot'e  Droit  conservative  ;  the  Cote  Gauche  destructive.  In- 
termediate is  Anglomaniac  Constitutionalism,  or  Two-Cham- 
bcr  Eoyalism  ;  with  its  Mouuiers,  its  Lallys, — fast  verging 
towards  nonentity.  Pre-eminent,  on  the  Eight  Side,  pleads 
and  perorates  CazaKs,  the  Dragoon-captain,  eloquent,  mildly 
fervent  ;  earning  for  himself  the  shadow  of  a  name.  There 
also  blusters  Barrel-Mirabeau,  the  Younger  Mii'abeau,  not 
■without  wit :  dusky  d'Espremenil  does  nothing  but  sniff  and 
ejaculate  ;  might,  it  is  fondly  thought,  lay  prostrate  the  Elder 
Mirabeau  himself,  would  he  but  try,* — which  he  does  not. 
Last  and  greatest,  see,  for  one  moment,  the  Abbe  Maury ; 
with  his  Jesuitic  eyes,  his  impassive  brass  face,  '  image  of  all 
the  cardinal  sins.'  Lidoraitable,  unquenchable,  he  fights 
jesuitico-rhetorically  ;  with  toughest  lungs  and  heart ;  for 
Tin'one,  especially  for  Altar  and  Tithes.  So  that  a  shrill  voice 
exclaims  once,  from  the  Gallery  :  "  Messieurs  of  the  Clergy, 
"  you  have  to  be  shaved  ;  if  you  wriggle  too  much,  you  will  get 
"  cut."f 

The  Left  Side  is  also  called  the  d 'Orleans  side  ;  and  some- 
times, derisively,  the  Palais  Royal.  And  yet,  so  confused, 
real-imaginary  seems  evei-y  thing,  '  it  is  doubtful,'  as  Mirabeau 
said,  whether  '  d'Orleaus  himself  belong  to  that  same  d'Or- 
'  leans  Party.'  What  can  be  known  and  seen  is,  that  his  moon- 
visage  does  beam  forth  from  that  point  of  space.  There  like- 
wise sits  seagreen  Robespierre  ;  throwing  in  his  light  weight, 
with  decision,  not  yet  with  effect.  A  thin  lean  Puritan  and 
Precisian  ;  he  would  make  away  with  formulas  ;  yet  lives, 
moves,  and  has  his  being,  wholly  in  formulas,  of  another  sort. 
'  PeupU','  such  according  to  Robespierre  ought  to  be  the  Royal 
method  of  promulgating  Laws,  '  Feuple,  this  is  the  Law  I 
have  framed  for  thee  :  dost  thou  accept  it  ? ' — answered,  from 
Right  Side,  from  Centre  and  Left,  by  inextinguishable  laugh- 
ter.J     Yet  men  of  insight  discern  that  the  Seagreen  may  by 

*  Biographie  Universelle,  §  d'Esprem 'nil  vby  Beaulieu). 
•   f  Dictionnairn  des  Homraes  Marquans,  ii.  519. 
X  Moniteiir,  No.  07.  (in  Hist.  Pari). 


THE  CONSTITUENT  ASSEMBLY.  215 

chance  go  far:  "tliis  man,"  observes  Mirabeau,  "will  do 
somewhat  ;  he  believes  every  word  he  says." 

Abbe  Sieyes  is  busy  with  mere  Constitutional  work  :  wherein, 
unluckily,  fellow-workmen  are  less  pliable  than,  with  one  who 
has  completed  the  Science  of  Polity,  they  ought  to  be.  Cour- 
age, Sieyes,  nevertheless  !  Some  twenty  months  of  heroic 
travail,  of  contradiction  from  the  stupid,  and  the  Constitution 
shall  be  built ;  the  top-stone  of  it  brought  out  with  shouting, 
— say  rather,  the  top-paj)er,  for  it  is  all  Paper  ;  and  thou  hast 
done  in  it  what  the  Earth  or  the  Heaven  could  require,  thy 
utmost.  Note  likewise  this  trio;  memorable  for  several 
things  ;  memorable  were  it  only  that  their  history  is  written 
in  an  epigi-am  :  '  whatsoever  these  Three  have  in  hand,'  it  is 
said,  '  Duport  thinks  it,  Barnave   speaks  if,  Lameth   does  it.'* 

But  royal  Mirabeau  ?  Conspicuous  among  all  parties,  raised 
above  and  beyond  them  all,  this  man  rises  more  and  more. 
As  we  often  say,  he  has  an  eye,  he  is  a  reality  ;  while  others 
are  formulas  and  eje-glasses.  In  the  Transient  he  will  detect  the 
Perennial ;  find  some  firm  footing  even  among  Paper-vortexes. 
His  fame  is  gone  forth  to  all  lands  ;  it  gladdened  the  heart 
of  the  crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men  himself  before  he  died. 
The  very  Postilions  of  inns  have  heard  of  Mirabeau  :  when  an 
impatient  Traveller  complains  that  the  team  is  insufficient, 
his  Postilion  answers,  "Yes,  Monsieur,  the  wheelers  are  v/eak  ; 
"  but  my  mirabeau  (main  horse),  you  see,  is  a  right  one,  mals 
"  mon  mirabeau  est  excellent."  f 

And  now.  Reader,  thou  shalt  quit  this  noisy  Discrepancy 
of  a  National  Assembly  ;  not  (if  thou  be  of  humane  mind) 
without  pity.  Twelve  Hundred  brother  men  are  there,  in  the 
centre  of  Twenty-five  Millions  ;  fighting  so  fiercely  with  Fate 
and  with  one  another  ;  struggling  their  lives  out,  as  most  sons 
of  Adam  do,  for  that  which  profiteth  not.  Nay,  on  the  whole, 
it  is  admitted  further  to  be  very  dull.  "Dull  as  this  day's  As- 
sembly," said  some  one.  "Why  date,  Pourquoi  dater?"  an- 
swered Mirabeau. 

*  See  Toulongeon,  i  c.  3. 

+  Eumont  :   Souvenirs  sur  Blirabeau,  p   255. 


210  CONSOLIDATION. 

Consider  that  they  are  Twelve  Hundred  ;  that  they  not  only 
speak,  but  read  their  speeches  ;  and  even  borrow  and  steal 
speeches  to  read  !  With  Twelve  Hundred  fluent  speakers, 
and  their  Noah's  Deluge  of  vociferous  commonplace,  silence 
unattainable  may  well  seem  the  one  blessing  of  Life.  But 
figure  Twelve  Hundred  pamphleteers ;  di'ouing  forth  per- 
petual pamphlets  :  and  no  man  to  gag  them  !  Neither,  as  in 
the  American  Congress,  do  the  arrangements  seem  perfect 
A  Senator  has  not  his  own  Desk  and  Xews^japer  here ;  of  To- 
bacco (much  less  of  Pipes)  there  is  not  the  slightest  provision. 
Conversation  itself  must  be  transacted  in  a  low  tone,  with 
continual  interruption :  only  '  pencil  Notes '  circulate  freely  ; 
'  in  incredible  numbei's  to  the  foot  of  the  very  tribune.'  * — 
Such  work  is  it,  regenerating  a  Nation  ;  perfecting  one's  The- 
ory of  Irregular  Verbs. 


CHAPTER  HL 

THE    GENERAL   OVERTURN. 

Of  the  King's  Court,  for  the  present,  there  is  almost  noth- 
ing whatever  to  be  said.  Silent,  deserted  are  these  halls  ; 
Royalty  languishes  forsaken  of  its  war-god  and  all  its  hopes, 
till  once  the  (Eil-de-Bceuf  rally  again.  The  sceptre  is  de- 
parted from  King  Louis  ;  is  gone  over  to  the  Salle  des  Menus^ 
to  the  Paris  Townhall,  or  one  knows  not  whither.  In  the 
July  days,  while  all  ears  were  yet  deafened  by  the  crash  of 
the  BastiUe,  and  ]Ministers  and  Princes  were  scattered  to  the 
four  wmds,  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  Valets  had  gro^vn  hea%-y 
of  hearing.  Besenval,  also  in  flight  towards  Infinite  Space, 
but  hovering  a  httle  at  Versailles,  Avas  addressing  his  Majesty 
jiersonally  for  an  Order  about  post-horses  ;  when,  lo,  '  the 
Valet  in  waiting  places  himself  familiarly  between  his  Majesty 
and  me,'  stretching  out  his  rascal  neck  to  learn  what  it  was  ! 
His  Majesty,  in  sudden  eholer,  whirled  round  ;  made  a  clutch 
at  the  tongs  ;  '  I  gently  prevented  him  ;  he  grasped  my  hand 
in  thankfulness  ;  and  I  noticed  tears  in  his  eyea't 

♦  Sec  Dumont  p.  loO-GT^  ;  Arthur  Young.  &c.     f  Eesenval,  iii.  419. 


THE   GENERAL    OVERTURN.  2 IT 

Poor  King  ;  for  French  Kings  also  are  men  !  Louis  Foui-- 
toentli  himself  once  clutched  the  tongs,  and  even  smote  with 
them  ;  but  then  it  was  at  Louvois,  and  Dame  Maiutenon  ran 
up. — The  Queen  sits  weejDing  in  her  inner  apartments,  sur- 
rounded by  weak  women:  she  is  'at  the  height  of  unpopu- 
1  uity  ; '  universally  regarded  as  the  evil  genius  of  France. 
Her  friends  and  familiar  counsellors  have  all  fled  ;  and  fled, 
surely,  on  the  foolishest  errand.  The  Chateau  Polignac  still 
frowns  aloft,  on  its  'bold  and  enormous  cubical  rock,' amid 
the  blooming  champaigns,  amid  the  blue  girdling  mountains 
of  Auvergne  :  *  but  no  Duke  and  Duchess  Pohgnac  look  forth 
from  it ;  they  have  fled,  they  have  '  met  Necker  at  B.Ue  ; '  they 
shall  not  return.  That  France  should  see  her  Nobles  resist 
the  Irresistible,  Inevitable,  with  the  face  of  angry  men,  was 
unhappy,  not  unexpected  :  but  with  the  face  and  sense  of 
pettish  children  ?  This  was  her  peculiarity.  They  under- 
stood nothing  ;  would  understand  nothing.  Does  not,  at 
this  hour,  a  new  Polignac,  first-born  of  these  Two,  sit  reflect- 
ive in  the  Castle  of  Ham  ;  f  in  an  astonishment  he  will  never 
recover  from  ;  the  most  conf  ased  of  existing  mortals  ? 

King  Louis  has  his  new  Ministry :  mere  Popularities  ;  Old- 
President  Pompignan  ;  Necker,  coming  back  in  triumph  ;  and 
other  such.  J  But  what  will  it  avail  him  ?  As  was  said,  the 
sceptre,  all  but  the  wooden  gilt  sceptre,  has  departed  else- 
w'hither.  Volition,  determination  is  not  in  this  man  :  only  in- 
nocence, indolence  ;  dependence  on  all  persons  but  himself, 
on  all  circumstances  but  the  circumstances  he  were  lord  of. 
So  troublous  internally  is  our  Versailles  and  its  work.  Beau- 
tiful, if  seen  from  afar,  resplendent  hke  a  Sun  ;  seen  near  at 
hind,  a  mere  Sun's-Atmosphere,  hiding  darkness,  confused  fer- 
ment of  ruin  ! 

But  over  France,  there  goes  on  the  iadisputablest  'destnic- 
tion  of  formulas  ; '  transaction  of  realities  that  follow  there- 
from. So  many  millions  of  persons,  all  gyved,  and  nigh 
strangled,  with  foi'mulas  ;  whose  Life  nevertheless,  at  least 
the  digestion  and  hunger  of  it,  was  real  enough  !     Heaven  has 

*  Artlmr  Young,  i.  165.       f  A.  D.  18S5.         %  Montgaillard  ii.  103. 


218  CONSOLIDATION. 

at  lengtli  sent  an  abimdant  harvest :  but  what  i^rofits  it  thi 
pcor  man,  when  Earth  with  her  formulas  interposes  ?  Indus- 
try, in  these  times  of  insurrection,  mvist  needs  lie  dormant ; 
capital,  as  usual,  not  circulating,  but  stagiiating  timorously  in 
nooks.  The  poor  man  is  short  of  work,  is  therefore  short  of 
money  ;  nay,  even  had  he  money,  bread  is  not  to  be  bought 
for  it.  Were  it  plotting  of  Aristocrats,  plotting  of  d'Orleans  ; 
were  it  Brigands,  preternatural  terror,  and  the  clang  of  Phoe- 
bus Apollo's  silver  bow, — enough,  the  markets  are  scarce  of 
grain,  plentiful  only  in  tumult.  Farmers  seem  lazy  to  thresh  ; 
— being  either  '  bribed  ; '  or  needing  no  bribe,  with  prices  ever 
rising,  with  perhaps  rent  itself  no  longer  so  pressing.  Neither, 
what  is  singular,  do  municipal  enactments,  '  That  along  with 
so  many  measures  of  wheat  you  shall  sell  so  many  of  rye,'  and 
other  the  like,  much  mend  the  matter.  Dragoons  with  drawn 
swords  stand  ranked  among  the  corn  sacks,  often  more  dra- 
goons than  sacks.*  Meal-mobs  abound  ;  growing  into  mobs 
of  a  still  darker  quahty. 

Starvation  has  been  known  among  the  French  Commonalty 
before  this ;  known  and  familiar.  Did  we  not  see  them,  in 
the  year  1775,  presenting,  in  sallow  faces,  in  wi-etchedness  and 
raggedness,  then-  Petition  of  Grievances,  and,  for  answer,  get- 
ting a  brand-new  Gallows  forty  feet  high  ?  Hunger  and  Dark- 
ness, through  long  years  !  For  look  back  on  that  earlier  Paris 
Riot,  when  a  Great  Personage,  worn  out  by  debauchery,  was 
believed  to  be  in  want  of  Blood-baths  ;  and  Mothers,  in  worn 
raiment,  yet  with  living  hearts  under  it,  '  filled  the  public 
places'  with  their  wild-Rachel  cries, — stilled  also  by  the  Gal- 
lows. Twenty  years  ago,  the  Friend  of  Men  (preaching  to  the 
deaf)  described  the  Limousin  Peasants  as  wearing  a  pain- 
stricken  {iiouffre-douleur)  look,  a  look  pas/  comi^laint,  '  as  if  th< 
'  oppression  of  the  great  were  like  the  hail  and  the  thunder,  i. 
'  thing  irremediable,  the  ordinance  of  Nature.'  f  And  now  if  in 
some  great  hour,  the  shock  of  a  falling  Bastille  should  awaken 
you  ;  and  it  were  found  to  be  the  ordinance  of  Art  merely  ; 
and  remediable,  reversible ! 

♦  Artliur  Young,  i.  129,  &c. 

f  Fils  AdcptiT:    M  moiros  de  Mirabcau,  i.  .364-^94. 


THE    GENERAL   OVERTURN.  219 

Or  lias  the  Eeader  forgotten  that  'flood  of  savages,'  wLicli, 
in  sight  of  the  same  Friend  of  Men,  descended  from  the  moun- 
tains at  Mount  d'Or  ?  Lank-haired  haggard  faces :  shapes 
raw-boned,  in  high  sabots  ;  in  woollen  jupes,  with  leather 
girdles,  studded  with  copper-nails  !  They  rocked  from  foot 
to  foot,  and  beat  time  with  their  elbows  too,  as  the  quarrel  and 
battle  which  was  not  long  in  beginning  went  on  ;  shouting 
fiercely  ;  the  lank  faces  distorted  into  the  similitude  of  a  cruel 
laugh.  For  they  were  darkened  and  hardened  :  long  had  they 
been  the  prey  of  excisemen  and  tax-men  ;  of  '  clerks  with  the 
cold  spurt  of  their  pen.'  It  was  the  fixed  prophecy  of  our  old 
Marquis,  which  no  man  would  listen  to,  that  '  such  Govern- 
'ment  by  Blind-man's-buff,  stumbling  along  too  far,  would 
'end  by  the  General  Overturn,  the  Culbute  Geiitrale  ! ' 

No  man  would  listen,  each  went  his  thoughtless  way  ; — and 
Time  and  Destiny  also  travelled  on.  The  Government  by 
Blind-man's-buff,  stumbling  along,  has  reached  the  j)recipice 
inevitable  for  it.  Dull  Drudgery,  driven  on,  by  clerks  with 
the  cold  dastard  spurt  of  their  pen,  has  been  driven— into  a 
Communion  of  Drudges  !  For  now,  moreover,  there  have  come 
the  strangest  confused  tidings  ;  by  Paris  Journals  with  their 
paper  wings  ;  or  still  more  portentous,  where  no  Journals  are,* 
by  rumour  and  conjecture :  Oppression  not  inevitable  ;  a  Bas- 
tille prostrate,  and  the  Constitution  fast  getting  ready  !  Which 
Constitution,  if  it  be  something  and  not  nothing,  what  can  it 
be  but  bread  to  eat  ? 

The  Traveller,  'walking  up  hill  bridle  in  hand,'  overtakes 
'  a  poor  woman ; '  the  image,  as  such  commonly  are,  of 
drudgery  and  scarcity ;  'looking  sixty  years  of  age,  though  she 
is  not  yet  twenty-eight.'  They  have  seven  children,  her  poor 
drudge  and  she  :  a  farm,  with  one  cow,  which  helps  to  make 
the  children  soup  ;  also  one  little  horse,  or  garron.  They 
have  rents  and  quit  rents.  Hens  to  pay  to  this  Seigneur,  Oat- 
sacks  to  that ;  King's  taxes,  Statute-labor,  Church-taxes,  taxes 
enough  ; — and  think  the  times  inexpressible.  She  has  heard 
that  Bovaeiohere,  in  some  manner,  something  is  to  be  done  for 

♦  See  Arthur  Young,  i.  137,  150,  ko. 


220  CONSOLIDATION. 

tlie  poor  :  "  God  send  it  soou  ;  for  the  dues  and  taxes  crush 
us  down  [nous  ecra  sent)  ! "  * 

Fair  prophecies  are  spoken,  but  they  are  not  fulfilled. 
There  have  been  Notables,  Assemblages,  turnings  out  and 
comings  in.  Intriguing  and  manoeuvring  ;  Parliamentaiy 
cloijuence  and  arguing,  Greek  meeting  Gi-eek  in  high  places, 
h  IS  long  gone  on ;  yet  still  bread  comes  not.  The  har- 
V3st  is  reaped  and  garnered  ;  yet  still  we  have  no  bread. 
Urged  by  despair  and  by  hope,  what  can  Drudgery  do,  but 
rise,  as  predicted,  and  produce  the  General  Overturn  ? 

Fanc}',  then,  some  Five  full-grown  Millions  of  such  gaunt 
figures,  with  their  haggard  faces  [fujures  haves)  ;  in  woollen 
jupes,  with  copper-studded  leather  girths,  and  high  sabots, — 
starting  up  to  ask,  as  in  forest  roariugs,  their  washed  Upper 
Classes,  after  long  unreviewed  centuries,  virtually  this  ques- 
tion :  How  have  ye  treated  us ;  how  have  ye  taught  us,  fed  us, 
and  led  us,  while  we  toiled  for  you  ?  The  answer  can  be  read 
in  flames  over  the  nightly  summer-sky.  Tids  is  the  feeding 
and  leading  we  have  had  of  you  :  Emptiness, — of  pocket,  of 
stomach,  of  head,  and  of  heart.  Behold  there  is  nothing  in 
us  ;  nothing  but  what  Nature  gives  her  wild  children  of  the 
desert :  Ferocity  and  Appetite  ;  Strength  grounded  on  Hun- 
ger. Did  ye  mark  among  your  Eights  of  Man,  that  man  was 
not  to  die  of  starvation,  while  there  was  bread  reaped  by 
him  ?     It  is  among  the  Mights  of  Man. 

Seventy-two  Chateaus  have  flamed  aloft  in  the  Maconnais 
and  Beaujolais  alone  :  this  seems  the  centre  of  the  conflagra- 
tion ;  but  it  has  spread  over  Dauphint',  Alsace,  the  Lyonnais  ; 
the  whole  South-East  is  in  a  blaze.  All  over  the  North,  from 
Kouen  to  Metz,  disorder  is  abroad  :  smugglers  of  salt  go 
openly  in  armed  bands  :  the  barriers  of  to-wns  are  burnt ;  toll- 
githerers,  tax-gatherers,  official  persons  put  to  flight.  'It 
was  thought,'  says  Young,  '  the  people,  from  hunger,  would 
revolt ; '  and  we  see  they  have  done  it.  DesjDerate  Lackalls, 
long  prowling  aimless,  now  finding  hope  in  desperation  itself, 
everywhere  form  a  nucleus.  They  ring  the  Church  bell  by  way 
of  tocsin :  and  the  Parish  turns  out  to  the  work.f     Ferocity, 

♦  Spe  Arthur  Young,  i.  134.  f  ,<.V<;Hist.  Pari,  ii.  24-3-0. 


THE   GENERAL    OVERTURN.  221 

atrocity  ;  hunger  and  revenge  :  such  work  as  "\ve  can  im- 
agine ! 

HI  stands  it  now  with  the  Seigneur,  who,  for  example,  '  has 
walled  up  the  only  Fountain  of  the  Township  ; '  who  has  rid- 
den high  on  his  chartiev  and  parchments  ;  who  has  preserved 
Game  not  wisely  but  too  well.  Churches  also,  and  Canonries, 
are  sacked,  without  mercy  ;  which  have  shorn  the  flock  too 
close,  forgetting  to  feed  it.  "Wo  to  the  land  over  which  Sans- 
cullottism,  in  its  day  of  vengeance,  tramps  rough-shod, — 
shod  in  sabots  !  Highbi'ed  Seigneurs,  with  their  delicate  wom- 
en and  little  ones,  had  to  '  fly  half-naked,'  under  cloud  of  night : 
glad  to  escape  the  flames,  and  even  worse.  You  meet  them  at 
the  tablt's-d'hote  of  inns ;  making  wise  reflexions  or  foolish  that 
'  rank  is  destroyed  ; '  uncertain  whither  the}^  shall  now  wend.* 
The  metayer  will  find  it  convenient  to  be  slack  in  paying 
rent.  As  for  the  Tax-gatherer,  he,  long  hunting  as  a  bij)ed  of 
prey,  may  now  find  himself  hunted  as  one  ;  his  Majesty's  Ex- 
chequer will  not  'fill  up  the  Deficit,'  this  season:  it  is  the 
notion  of  many  that  a  Patriot  Majesty,  being  the  Restorer  of 
French  Liberty,  has  abolished  most  taxes,  though,  for  their 
private  ends,  some  men  make  a  secret  of  it. 

AVhere  this  Avill  end  ?  In  the  Abyss,  one  may  prophesy  ; 
whither  all  Delusions  are,  at  all  moments,  travelling  ;  where 
this  Delusion  has  now  arrived.  For  if  there  be  a  Faith,  from 
of  old,  it  is  this,  as  we  often  repeat,  that  no  Lie  can  live  for- 
ever. The  very  Truth  has  to  change  its  vesture,  from  time  to 
time  ;  and  be  born  again.  But  all  Lies  have  sentence  of 
death  written  down  against  them,  in  Heaven's  Chancery  itself  ; 
and,  slowly  or  fast,  advance  incessantly  towards  their  hour. 
'The  sign  of  a  Grand  Seigneur  being  landlord,'  says  the 
vehement  plain-spoken  Arthur  Young,  'are  Avastes,  landes, 
'  deserts,  ling  :  go  to  his  residence,  you  will  find  it  in  the  mid- 
*dle  of  a  forest,  peopled  with  deer,  wild  boars  and  wolves.  The 
•  fields  are  scenes  of  pitiable  management,  as  the  houses  are  of 
'  misery.  To  see  so  many  millions  of  hands,  that  would  be 
'  industrious,  all  idle  and  starving  :  Oh,  if  I  were  legislator  of 
'France,  for  one  day,  I  would  make  these  great  lords  skip 
*  Sec  Young,  i.  149,  &c, 


222  VONSOLIDATIOIV. 

'  again  ! '  *      0   Arthur,  thou   now   actually   behoklest   them 
skip  ; — wilt  thou  grow  to  grumble  at  that  too? 

For  long  years  and  generations  it  lasted,  but  the  time 
came.  Featherbrain,  whom  no  reasoning  and  no  pleading 
could  touch,  the  glare  of  the  firebrand  had  to  illuminate : 
there  remained  but  that  method.  Consider  it,  look  at  it ! 
The  Avidow  is  gathering  nettles  for  her  children's  dinner ;  a 
perfumed  Seigneur,  delicately  lounging  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf, 
has  an  alchemy  whereby  he  will  extract  from  her  the  third 
nettle,  and  name  it  Kent  and  Law  :  such  an  arrangement  must 
end.  Ought  it  not?  But,  O  most  feai-ful  is  such  an  ending  ! 
Let  those,  to  whom  God,  in  his  great  mercy,  has  granted 
time  and  space,  prejoare  another  and  milder  one. 

To  some  it  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that  the  Seigneurs  did  not 
do  something  to  help  themselves  ;  say,  combine,  and  arm  :  for 
there  were  a  '  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  them '  all  valiant 
enough.  Unhappily,  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  scattered 
over  wide  Provinces,  divided  by  mutual  ill-will,  cannot  com- 
bine. The  highest  Seigneurs,  as  we  have  seen,  had  already 
emigrated, — with  a  view  of  putting  France  to  the  blush. 
Neither  are  arms  now  the  peculiar  property  of  Seigneurs  ; 
but  of  every  mortal  who  has  ten  shillings,  wherewith  to  buy  a 
secondhand  firelock. 

Besides,  those  starving  Peasants,  after  all,  have  not  four  feet 
and  claws,  that  you  could  keep  them  down  jDermanently  in 
that  manner.  They  are  not  even  of  black  colour  ;  they  are 
mere  Unwashed  Seigneurs  ;  and  a  Seigneur  too  has  human 
bowels ! — The  Seigneurs  did  what  they  could ;  enrolled  in 
National  Guards  ;  fled,  with  shrieks,  complaining  to  Heaven 
and  Earth.  One  Seigneur,  famed  Memmay  of  Quincey,  near 
Vesoul,  invited  all  the  rustics  of  his  neighbourhood  to  a  ban- 
quet ;  blew  up  his  Chateau  and  them  with  gunpowder ;  and 
instantaneously  vanished,  no  man  yet  knows  whither,  f  Some 
half-dozen  years  after,  he  came  back  ;  and  demonstrated  that 
it  was  by  accident. 

Nor  are  the  Authorities  idle  ;  though,  unluckily,  all  Author! 
*  Arthur  Young,  i.  12,  48,  84,  &c.  \  Hist.   Tarl.  ii.  161. 


TUB    GENERAL   OVERTURN:  223 

ties,  Municipalities  and  such  like,  are  in  the  uncertain  transi- 
tionary  state  ;  getting  regenerated  from  old  Monarchic  to  new 
Dainosratic  ;  no  Ofi&cial  yet  knows  clearly  what  he  is.  Never- 
theless, Maj'oi's  old  or  new  do  gather  ILirechausseei^,  National 
Guards,  Troops  of  the  line  ;  justice,  of  the  most  summary 
sort,  is  not  wanting.  The  Electoral  Committee  of  Macon, 
though  but  a  Committee,  goes  the  length  of  hanging,  for  its 
own  behoof,  as  many  as  twenty.  The  Prevot  of  Danphino 
traverses  the  country  '  with  a  movable  column,'  with  tipstaves, 
gallows-ropes :  for  gallows  any  tree  will  serve,  and  suspend  its 
culprit,  or  '  thirteen  '  culprits. 

Unhappy  country  !  How  is  the  fair  gold-and- green  of  the 
ripe  bright  Year  defaced  with  horrid  blackness  ;  black  ashes 
of  Chateaus,  black  bodies  of  gibbeted  Men !  Industry  has 
ceased  in  it ;  not  sounds  of  the  hammer  and  saw,  but  of  the 
tocsin  and  alarm-drum.  The  sceptre  has  departed,  ivhither 
one  knows  not ; — breaking  itself  in  pieces  :  here  impotent, 
there  tyrannous.  National  Guards  are  unsldlful,  and  of 
doubtful  purpose  ;  Soldiers  are  inclined  to  mutiny :  there  is 
danger  that  they  too  may  quarrel,  danger  that  they  may  agree. 
Strasburg  has  seen  riots  :  a  Townhall  torn  to  shreds,  its  ar- 
chives scattered  white  on  the  winds  ;  drunk  soldiers  embrac- 
ing drunk  citizens  for  three  days,  and  Mayor  Dietrich  and 
Marshal  Rochambeau  reduced  nigh  to  desperation.* 

Through  the  middle  of  all  which  phenomena,  is  seen,  on  his 
triumjihant  transit,  '  escorted,'  through  Befort  for  instance, 
'  by  fifty  National  Horsemen  and  all  the  military  music  of  the 
place,' — M.  Necker,  returning  from  Bale!  Glorious  as  the 
meridian  ;  though  poor  Necker  himself  partly  guesses  whither 
it  is  leading.^  One  highest  culminating  day,  at  the  Paris 
Townhall ;  with  immortal  vivats,  with  wife  and  daughter 
kneeling  pubhcly  to  kiss  his  hand  ;  with  Besenval's  pardon 
granted, — but,  indeed,  revoked  before  sunset :  one  highest 
day,  but  then  lower  days,  and  ever  lower,  down  even  to 
lowest !    Such  magic  is  in  a  name  ;  and  in  the  want  of  a  name. 

*  Arthur  Young,  i.  141. — Dampmartin  :  Evenemens  qui  se  sont  passJs 
sous  mes  yeux,  i.  105-127. 

I  Biographie  Universelle,  g  Necker  ,by  Lally-Tollendal). 


224  coysoLiDATioy. 

Like  some  enchanted  Mambrino's  Helmet,  essential  to  victoiy, 
comes  this  'Saviour  of  France  ;'  besliouted,  becymballed  by 
the  world  ;  alas,  so  soon,  to  be  r/isenclianted,  to  be  pitched 
shamefully  over  the  lists  as  a  Barber's  Basin  !  Gibbon  '  could 
wish  to  show  him '  (in  this  ejected.  Barber's  Basin  state)  to 
any  man  of  solidity,  who  wei-e  minded  to  have  the  soul  burnt 
out  of  him,  and  become  a  caput  mortaum,  by  Ambition,  un- 
successful or  successful.* 

Another  small  phasis  we  add,  and  no  more  :  how,  in  the 
Autumn  months,  our  sharp-tempered  Arthur  has  been  '  pes- 
tered for  some  days  past,'  by  shot,  lead-drops  and  slugs, 
'  ratthug  five  or  six  times  into  my  chaise  and  about  my  ears  ;  * 
all  the  mob  of  the  country  gone  out  to  kill  Game  !  f  It  is 
even  so.  On  the  Cliffs  of  Dover,  over  all  the  Marches  of 
France,  there  aj^pear,  this  autumn,  two  signs  on  the  Earth  : 
emigrant  flights  of  French  Seigneurs ;  emigrant  winged 
fhghts  of  French  Game !  Finished  one  may  saj',  or  as  good 
as  finished,  is  the  Preservation  of  Game  on  this  Earth ;  com- 
jileted  for  endless  Time.  What  part  it  had  to  play  in  the 
History  of  Civilisation,  is  played:  plaudite  exeat! 

In  this  manner  does  Sansculottism  blaze  up,  illustrating 
many  things  ; — producing,  among  the  rest,  as  we  saw,  on  the 
Fourth  of  August,  that  semi-miraculous  Night  of  Pentecost  iu 
the  National  Assembly  ;  semi-miraculous,  which  had  its  causes, 
and  its  effects.  Feudalism  is  struck  dead  ;  not  on  parchment 
only,  and  by  ink  ;  but  in  very  fact,  by  fire  :  say,  by  self-com- 
bustion. This  conflagration  of  the  South-Eist  will  abate  ; 
will  be  got  scattered,  to  the  West,  or  elsewhither  :  extinguish 
it  v;ill  not,  till  i\iQfael  be  all  done. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN    QUEUE. 

If  we  look  now  at  Paris,  one  thing  is  too  evident :  that  the 
Bakers'  shops  have   got  their  Qiieuetf,  or  Tails  ;   their  long 
strings  of  purchasers,  arranged  in  tail,  sp  that  the  first  come 
*  Gibbon's  Letters.  f  Young,  i.  176. 


7iY  QUEUE.  225 

be  the  first  served, — were  the  shop  once  open  !  This  waiting 
in  tail,  not  seen  since  the  early  days  of  July,  again  makes  its 
appearance  in  August.  In  time,  we  shall  see  it  perfected  by 
practice  to  the  rank  almost  of  an  art,  or  quasi-art,  of  stand- 
ing in  tail  become  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Parisian 
People,  distinguishing  them  from  all  other  Peoples  whatsoever. 

But  consider,  while  work  itself  is  so  scarce,  how  a  man 
must  not  only  realize  money  ;  but  stand  waiting  (if  his  wife  is 
too  weak  to  wait  and  struggle)  for  half-days  in  the  Tail,  till  he 
get  it  changed  for  dear  bad  bread  !  Controversies,  to  the 
length  sometimes  of  blood  and  battery,  must  arise  in  these 
exasperated  Queues.  Or  if  no  controversy,  then  it  is  but  one 
accordant  Pange  Lingua  of  complaint  against  the  Powers  that 
be.  France  has  begun  her  long  Curriculum  of  Hungering, 
instructive  and  productive  beyond  Academic  Curriculums  ; 
which  extends  over  some  seven  most  strenuous  years.  As 
Jean  Paul  says,  of  his  own  Life,  '  to  a  great  height  shall  the 
business  of  Hungering  go.' 

Or  consider,  in  strange  contrast,  the  jubilee  Ceremonies  ; 
for,  in  general,  the  aspect  of  Paris  presents  these  two  fea- 
tures :  jubilee  ceremonials  and  scarcity  of  victual.  Proces- 
sions enough  walk  in  jubilee  ;  of  Young  Women,  decked  and 
dizened,  their  ribands  all  tricolor  ;  mo\'ing  with  song  and 
tabor,  to  the  Shrine  of  Sainte  Gene\deve,  to  thank  her  that  the 
Bastille  is  down.  The  Strong  Men  of  the  Market,  and  the 
Strong  Women,  fail  not  with  their  bouquets  and  speeches. 
Abbe  Fauchet,  famed  in  such  work  (for  Abbe  Lefevre  could 
only  distribute  powder)  blesses  tricolor  cloth  for  the  National 
Guard  ;  and  makes  it  a  National  Tricolor  Flag  ;  victorious,  or 
to  be  victorious,  in  the  cause  of  civil  and  reHgious  liberty  all 
over  the  world.  Fauchet,  we  say,  is  the  man  for  Te-Deuma, 
and  public  Consecrations  ; — to  which,  as  in  this  instance  of 
the  Flag,  our  National  Guard  will  'reply  with  volleys  of 
musketry,'  Church  and  Cathedral  though  it  be  ;  *  filling  Notre 
Dame  with  such  noisiest  fuliginous  Amen  significant  of  several 
things. 

On  the  whole,  we  will  say  our  new  Mayor  Bailly,  our  new 
*  See  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  30.— Mercier  :  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 
Vol.  I.— 15 


226  CONSOLIDATION. 

Commander  Lafayette  named  also  '  Scipio-Americanus,'  have 
bought  then-  preferment  dear.  Baill}^  rides  in  gilt  state-coach, 
•with  beef-eaters  and  sumptuosity  ;  Camille  Desmoulins,  and 
others,  sniffing  at  him  for  it :  Scipio  bestrides  the  '  white 
charger,'  and  waves  with  ei\dc  plumes  in  sight  of  all  France. 
Neither  of  them,  however,  does  it  for  nothing  ;  but,  in  truth, 
at  an  exorbitant  rate.  At  this  rate,  namely  :  of  feeding  Paris, 
and  keeping  it  from  fighting.  Out  of  the  City-funds,  some 
seventeen  thousand  of  the  utterly  destitute  are  employed  dig- 
ging on  Montmartre,  at  ten  pence  a  day,  which  buys  them,  at 
market  price,  almost  two  pounds  of  bad  bread  : — They  look 
very  yellow,  when  Lafayette  goes  to  harangue  them.  The 
Townhall  is  in  travail,  night  and  day  ;  it  must  bring  forth 
Bread,  a  Municipal  Constitution,  regulations  of  all  kinds, 
curbs   on  the   Sanscidottic  Press ;  above  all.  Bread,  Bread. 

Purveyors  prowl  the  country  far  and  wide,  with  the  aj^pe- 
tite  of  hons  ;  detect  hidden  grain,  purchase  open  gTain  ;  by 
gentle  means  or  forcible,  must  and  will  find  grain.  A  most 
thankless  task  ;  and  so  difficult,  so  dangerous, — even  if  a  man 
did  gain  some  trifle  by  it !  On  the  19th  of  August,  there  is 
food  for  one  day.*  Complaints  there  are  that  the  food  is 
spoiled,  and  produces  an  effect  on  the  intestines  :  not  corn, 
but  plaster-of-Paris  !  Which  effect  on  the  intestines,  as  well 
as  that  '  smarting  in  the  throat  and  palate,'  a  Townhall  Proc- 
lamation warns  you  to  disregard,  or  even  to  consider  as 
drastic-beneficial.  The  Mayor  of  Saint-Denis,  so  black  was 
his  bread,  has,  by  a  dyspeptic  populace,  been  hanged  on  the 
Lanterne  there.  National  Guards  protect  the  Paris  Corn- 
Market  :  first  ten  suffice  ;  then  six  hundred,  f  Busy  are  ye, 
B.iilly,  Brissot  de  Warville,  Condorcet,  and  ye  others  ! 

For,  as  just  hinted,  there  is  a  Municipal  Constitution  to  be 
made  too.  The  old  Bastille  Electors,  after  some  ten  days  of 
psalmodying  over  their  glorious  victory,  began  to  hear  it 
asked,  in  a  splenetic  tone,  Who  put  you  there  ?  They  accord- 
ingly had  to  give  place,  not  without  moanings,  and  audible 
growlings  on  both  sides,  to  a  new  larger  Body,  specially 
elected  for  that  post.  Which  new  Body,  augmented,  altered, 
*See  Bailly  :  Memoires,  ii.  137-409.  \  Hist.  Pari.  il.  431. 


THE  FOURTH  ESTATE.  227 

then  fixed  finally  at  the  number  of  Three  Hundred,  with  the 
title  of  Town  Representatives  (iiejj/-e.se?ito»*' t/e /a  Commune), 
now  sits  there  ;  rightly  j)ortioned  into  Committees  ;  assiduous 
making  a  Constitution  ;  at  all  moments  when  not  seeking 
Horn'. 

And  such  a  Constitution  ;  little  short  of  miraculous  :  one 
that  shall  '  consolidate  the  Eevolution  ! '  The  Revolution  is 
finished,  then  ?  Mayor  Bailly  and  all  respectable  friends  of 
Freedom  would  fain  think  so.  Your  Revolution,  like  jelly 
sufficiently  boiled,  needs  only  to  be  poured  into  shapes,  of 
Constitution,  and  '  consolidated '  therein  ?  Could  it,  indeed, 
contrive  to  cool ;  which  last,  however,  is  precisely  the  doubt- 
ful thing,  or  even  the  not  doubtful ! 

Unhappy  Friends  of  Freedom  ;  consolidating  a  Revolution ! 
They  must  sit  at  work  there,  their  pa\'ihon  spread  on  very 
Chaos  ;  between  two  hostile  worlds,  the  Upper  Court-world, 
the  nether  Sansculottic  one  ;  and,  beaten  on  by  both,  toil 
painfully,  perilously, — doing,  in  sad  Hteral  earnest,  '  the  im- 
possible.' 

CH.\PTER  V. 

THE   FOURTH    ESTATE. 

Pamphleteering  opens  its  abysmal  throat  wider  and  wider  : 
never  to  close  more.  Our  Philosophes,  indeed,  rather  with- 
draw ;  after  the  manner  of  Marmontel,  '  retiring  in  disgust  the 
first  day.  Abbe  Raynal,  grown  gTay  and  quiet  in  his  Mar- 
seilles domicile,  is  little  content  with  this  work  ;  the  last  ht- 
erary  act  of  the  man  will  again  be  an  act  of  rebellion  :  an  in- 
dignant Letter  to  the  Constituent  Assembly  ;  answered  by  '  the 
order  of  the  day.'  Thus  also  Philosophe  Morellet  puckers 
discontented  brows ;  being  indeed  threatened  in  his  benefices 
by  that  Fourth  of  August ;  it  is  clearly  going  too  far.  How  as- 
tonishing that  those  '  haggard  figures  in  woollen  jupes '  would 
not  rest  as  satisfied  with  Speculation,  and  victorious  Analysis, 
as  we ! 

Alas,  yes :  Speculation,  Philosophism,  once  the  ornament 
and  wealth  of  the  saloon,  will  now  coin  itself  into  mere  Prac- 


228  CONSOLIDATION. 

tical  Propositions,  and  circulate  on  street  and  highwaj',  uni- 
versally,  with  results  !  A  Fourth  Estate,  of  Able  Editors, 
springs  up  ;  increases  and  multiplies  ;  irrepi-essible,  incalcu- 
lable. New  Printers,  new  Journals,  and  ever  new  (so  prurient 
is  the  world),  let  our  Three  Hundred  curb  and  consolidate  as 
they  can  !  Loustalot,  under  the  wing  of  Piiidhomme  dull- 
blustering  Printer,  edits  weekly  his  Revolutions  de  Paris ;  in 
im  acrid,  eini)hatic  manner.  Acrid,  con-osive,  as  the  spii'it  of 
sloes  and  cojoperas,  is  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People  ;  struck  al- 
ready with  the  fact  that  the  National  Assembly,  so  full  of 
Aristocrats,  'can  do  nothing,'  except  dissolve  itself,  and  make 
way  for  a  better  ;  that  the  Townhall  Representatives  are  little 
other  than  babblers  and  imbeciles,  if  not  even  knaves.  Poor 
is  this  man  ;  squalid,  and  dwells  in  garrets ;  a  man  unlovely 
to  the  sense,  outward  and  inward  ;  a  man  forbid  ;  — and  is  be- 
coming fanatical,  possessed  with  fixed-idea.  Cruel  lusus  of 
Nature  !  Did  Nature,  O  poor  Marat,  as  in  cruel  sport,  knead 
thee  out  of  her  leavings,  and  miscellaneous  waste  clay  ;  and 
fling  thee  forth,  stepdame-like,  a  Distraction  into  this  dis- 
tracted Eighteenth  Century  ?  Work  is  appointed  thee  there  ; 
which  thou  shalt  do.  The  Three  Hundred  have  summoned 
and  will  again  summon  Marat :  but  always  he  croaks  forth 
answer  sufficient ;  always  he  will  defy  them,  or  elude  them  ; 
and  endure  no  gag. 

Carra,  '  Ex-secretary  of  a  decapitated  Hospodar,'  and  then 
of  a  Necklace-Cardinal ;  hkewise  Pamjihleteer,  Adventurer  in 
many  scenes  and  lands, — draws  nigh  to  Mercier,  of  the  Tab- 
leaux de  Paris  ;  and,  with  foam  on  his  lips,  proposes  an  An- 
nales  Patriotiques.  The  Monitcur  goes  its  prosperous  way  ; 
Bamere  'weei)s,'on  Paper  as  yet  loyal;  Eivarol,  Royou  are 
not  idle.  Deep  calls  to  deep :  your  Domine  Salvnm  Fac 
Rf(jem  shall  awaken  Pange  Lingua  ;  with  an  Ami-du-Peuple 
there  is  a  King's  Fi'iend  Newspaper,  Ami-du-Roi.  Camille 
Desmoulins  has  appointed  himself  Procureur-Gentral  de  la 
Lanterne,  Attorney -General  of  the  Lamp-iron  ;  and  pleads, 
not  with  atrocity,  under  an  atrocious  title  ;  editing  weekly  his 
brilliant  Revolutions  oj  Paris  and  Brabant.  Brilliant,  we  say  : 
for  if,  in  that  thick  murk  of  Journalism,  with  its  dull  bluster* 


THE  FOURTH  ESTATE.  225 

ing,  witli  its  fixed  or  loose  fury,  any  ray  of  genius  greet  thee, 
be  sure  it  is  Camille's.  The  thing  that  Camille  touches,  he  with 
his  light  finger,  adorns  ;  brightness  plays,  gentle,  unexpected, 
amid  horrible  confusions  ;  often  is  the  word  of  Camille  worth 
reading,  when  no  other's  is.  Questionable  C.imille,  how  thou 
glitterest  with  a  fallen,  rebellious,  yet  still  semi-celestial  light ; 
as  is  the  star-light  on  the  brow  of  Lucifer  !  Son  of  the  Morn- 
ing, into  what  times  and  what  lands,  art  thou  fallen  ! 

But  in  all  things  there  is  good  ; — though  it  be  not  good  for 
'consolidating  Revolutions.'  Thousand  wagon-loads  of  this 
Pamphleteering  and  NewsjDaper  matter,  lie  rotting  slowly  in 
the  Public  Libraries  of  our  Europe.  Snatched  from  the  great 
gulf,  like  oysters  by  bibliomaniac  pearl-divers,  there  must  they 
first  rot,  then  what  was  pearl,  in  Camille  or  others,  may  be 
seen  as  such,  and  continue  as  such. 

Nor  has  public  sjjealcing  declined,  though  Lafayette  and  his 
Patrols  look  sour  on  it.  Loud  always  is  the  Palais  Royal, 
loudest  the  Cafe  de  Foy  ;  such  a  miscellany  of  Citizens  and 
Citizenesses  circulating  there.  '  Now  and  then,'  according  to 
Camille,  '  some  Citizens  employ  the  liberty  of  the  press  for  a 
'  private  purpose  ;  so  that  this  or  the  other  Patriot  finds  him- 
'  self  short  of  his  watch  or  pocket-handkerchief ! '  But  for  the 
rest,  in  Camille's  opinion,  nothing  can  be  a  livelier  image  of 
the  Roman  Forum.  '  A  patriot  proposes  his  motion  ;  if  it 
'  finds  any  supporters,  they  make  him  mount  on  a  chair,  and 
'  speak.  If  he  is  applauded,  he  prospers  and  redacts  ;  if  he  is 
'hissed,  he  goes  his  ways.'  Thus  they,  circulating  and  per- 
orating. Tall  shaggy  Marquis  Saint-Huruge,  a  man  that  has 
had  losses,  and  has  deserved  them,  is  seen  eminent,  and  also 
heard.  'Bellowing,  is  the  character  of  his  voice,  like  that  of 
a  bull  of  Bashan  ;  voice  which  drowns  all  voices,  which  causes 
frequently  the  hearts  of  men  to  leaj).  Cracked  or  half-cracked 
is  this  tall  Marquis's  head  ;  uncracked  are  his  lungs  ;  the- 
cracked  and  the  uncracked  shall  alike  avail  him. 

Consider  further  that  each  of  the  Forty-eight  Districts  has 
its  own  Committee  ;  speaking  and  motioning  continually  ;  aid- 
ing in  the  search  for  grain,  in  the  search  for  a  Constitution  ; 


230  rONSOL  IDA  TION. 

cliecking  and  siDurring  the  poor  Three  Hundred  of  the  Town- 
hall.  That  Danton,  with  a  'voice  reverberating  from  the 
domes,'  is  President  of  the  Cordeliers  District :  which  has 
already  become  a  Goshen  of  Patriotism.  That  apart  from  the 
'seventeen  thousand  utterly  necessitous,  digging  on  Mont- 
martre,'  most  of  whom,  indeed,  have  got  passes,  and  been  di.s- 
missed  into  Sj)ace  'with  four  shillings,' — there  is  a  strike,  or 
union,  of  Domestics  out  of  place  ;  who  assemble  for  public 
speaking  :  next,  a  strike  of  Tailors,  for  even  they  will  strike 
and  speak  ;  further,  a  strike  of  Journeymen  Cordwainers  ;  a 
strike  of  Apothecaries  :  so  dear  is  bread.*  All  these,  having 
struck,  must  speak  ;  generally  under  the  o^Den  canopy  ;  and 
pass  resolutions  ; — Lafayette  and  his  Patrols  watching  them 
suspiciously  from  the  distance. 

Unhapi^y  mortals  :  such  tugging  and  lugging,  and  throttling 
of  one  another,  to  divide,  in  some  not  intolerable  way,  the  joint 
Felicity  of  man  in  this  Earth  ;  when  the  whole  lot  to  be  divided 
is  such  a  '  feast  of  shells  ! ' — Diligent  are  the  Three  Hundred  ; 
none  equals  Scipio  Americanias  in  dealing  with  mobs.  But 
surely  all  these  things  bode  ill  for  the  consoKdating  of  a  Revo- 
lution. 

*  Histoire  Parlemeutaire,  ii.  359,  417,  423. 


BOOK  YII 
THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PATROLLOTISM. 


No>  ii^riends,  this  Revolution  is  not  of  the  consolidating  kind. 
Do  not  fires,  fevers,  sown  seeds,  chemical  mixtures,  men,  events ; 
all  embodiments  of  Force  that  work  in  this  miraculous  Com- 
plex of  Forces,  named  Universe — go  on  growing,  through  their 
natural  phases  and  developements,  each  according  to  its  kind  ; 
reach  their  height,  reach  their  visible  decline  ;  jfinally  sink 
under,  vanishing,  and  what  we  call  die  ?  They  all  grow  ; 
there  is  nothing  but  what  grows,  and  shoots  forth  into  its 
special  expansion, — once  give  it  leave  to  spring.  Observe 
too  that  each  grows  with  a  rapidit}'  proportioned,  in  genera], 
to  the  madness  and  unhealthiness  there  is  in  it :  slow  regular 
growth,  though  this  also  ends  in  death,  is  what  we  name  health 
and  sanity. 

A  Sansculottism,  which  has  prostrated  Bastilles,  which  has 
got  pike  and  musket,  and  now  goes  burning  Chateaus,  pass- 
ing resolutions  and  haranguing  under  roof  and  sky,  mny  be 
said  to  have  sprung  ;  and,  by  law  of  Nature,  must  grow.  To 
judge  by  the  madness  and  diseasedness  both  of  itself,  and  of 
the  soil  and  element  it  is  in,  one  might  expect  the  raj^idity 
and  monstrosity  would  be  extreme. 

Many  things  too,  especially  all  diseased  thiugs,  grow  by 
shoots  and  fits.  The  first  grand  fit  and  shooting  forth  of  Sans- 
culottism was  that  of  Paris  conquering  its  King  ;  for  Bailly's 
figure  of  rhetoric  was  ail-too  sad  a  reality.  The  King  is  con- 
quered ;  going  at  large  on  his  parole  ;  on  condition,  say,  of 


232  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

absolutely  good  behaviour, — which,  in  these  cii'cumstances, 
will  uuhappily  mean  no  behavioui'  whatever.     A  quite  unten- 


able position,  that  of  Majesty  put  on  its  good  behaviour 
Alas,  is  it  not  natural  that  whatever  Hves  try  to  keep  itself 
living  ?  Whereupon  his  Majesty's  behaviom-  will  soon  become 
exceptionable  ;  and  so  the  Second  grand  Fit  of  Sansculottism, 
that  of  ]3utting  him  in  dui-ance,  cannot  be  distant. 

Necker,  in  the  National  Assembly,  is  making  moan,  as  usual, 
about  his  Deficit :  BaiTiers  and  Customhouses  burnt ;  the  Tax- 
gatherer  hunted,  not  hunting  ;  his  Majesty's  Exchequer  all  but 
empty.  The  remedy  is  a  Loan  of  thu-ty  millions ;  then,  on 
still  more  enticing  terms,  a  Loan  of  eighty  millions  :  neither 
of  which  Loans,  unhai^pily,  will  the  Stockjobbers  venture  to 
lend.  The  Stockjobber  has  no  country,  except  his  own  black 
pool  of  Agio. 

And  yet,  in  those  days,  for  men  that  have  a  countiy,  what  a 
glow  of  patriotism  burns  in  many  a  heart ;  jDcnetrating  inwards 
to  the  very  purse  !  So  early  as  the  7th  of  August,  a  Don  Pa- 
triotique,  '  Patriotic  Gift  of  jewels  to  a  considerable  extent,'  has 
been  solemnly  made  by  certain  Parisian  women  ;  and  solemnly 
accepted  with  honourable  mention.  Whom  forthwith  all  the 
world  takes  to  imitating  and  emulating.  Patriotic  Gifts,  al- 
ways with  some  heroic  eloquence,  which  the  President  must 
answer  and  the  Assembly  listen  to,  flow  in  from  far  and  near : 
in  such  number  that  the  honom-able  mention  can  only  be 
performed  in  'lists  published  at  stated  epochs.'  Each  gives 
Avhat  he  can  :  the  very  cordwainers  have  behaved  munificently  ; 
one  landed  proprietor  gives  a  forest ;  fashionable  society  gives 
its  shoebuckles,  takes  cheerftilly  to  shoeties.  Unfortunate- 
females  give  what  they  'have  amassed  in  loving.'*  The  smell 
of  all  cash,  as  Vespasian  thought,  is  good. 

Beautiful,  and  yet  inadequate  !  The  Clergj'  must  be  '  in- 
vited '  to  melt  their  superfluous  Church-i^liite,— in  the  Eoyal 
Mint  Nay  finally,  a  Patriotic  Contribution,  of  the  forcible 
sort,  lias  to  be  detennined  on,  though  unwillingly  :  let  the 
fourth  part  of  your  declared  yearly  revenue,  for  this  once  only, 
*  Iliitoire    Parlemeiitairf,  ii   427. 


PA  TROLL  0  TISM.  233 

be  paid  down  ;  so  sliall  a  National  Assembly  make  the  Con- 
stitution, undistracted  at  least  by  insolvency.  Their  own 
wages,  as  settled  on  the  17th  of  August,  are  but  Eighteen 
Francs  a  day,  each  man  ;  but  the  Pubhc  Service  must  have 
sinews,  must  have  money.  To  appease  the  Deficit ;  not  to 
'  comhler,  or  choke,  the  Deficit,'  if  you  or  mortal  could  !  For 
withal,  as  Mirabeau  was  heard  saying,  "it  is  the  Deficit  that 
saA'^es  us." 

To  Avar  ds  the  end  of  August,  our  National  Assembly  in  its 
constitutional  labours,  has  got  so  far  as  the  question  of  Veto : 
shall  Majesty  have  a  Veto  on  the  National  Enactments  ;  or  not 
have  a  Veto  ?  What  speeches  were  spoken,  within  doors  and 
without ;  cleai',  and  also  passionate  logic  ;  imprecations,  com- 
minations  ;  gone  happily,  for  most  part,  to  Limbo  !  Through 
the  cracked  brain,  and  uncracked  lungs  of  Saint-Huruge,  the 
Palais  Eoyal  rebellows  with  Veto.  Journalism  is  busy,  France 
rings  with  Veto.  'I  shall  never  forget,' says  Dumont,  'my 
'  going  to  Paris,  one  of  those  days,  with  IMirabeau  ;  and  the 
'  crowd  of  people  we  found  waiting  for  his  carriage,  about  Le 
'  Jay  the  Bookseller's  shop.  They  flung  themselves  before 
'  him  ;  conjuring  him  with  tears  in  their  eyes  not  to  suffer 
'the  Veto  Absolu.  They  were  in  a  frenzy:  "Monsieur  le 
'  Comte,  you  are  the  People's  father,  you  mvist  save  us  ;  you 
'  must  defend  us  against  those  villains  who  are  bringing  back 
'  Despotism.  If  the  King  get  this  Veto,  what  is  the  use  of 
'  National  Assembly?  We  are  slaves  ;  aU  is  done."  '  *  Friends, 
if  the  sky  fall,  there  will  be  catching  of  larks  !  Mirabeau,  adds 
Dumont,  was  eminent  on  such  occasions :  he  answered  vague- 
ly, with  a  Patrician  impertui'babihty,  and  bound  himself  to 
nothing. 

Depuations  go  to  the  Hotel-de-VHle  ;  anonymous  Letters  to 
Aristocrats  in  the  National  Assembly,  threatening  that  fifteen 
thousand,  or  sometimes  that  sixty  thousand,  '  wiU  march  to 
illuminate  you.'  The  Paris  Districts  are  astir ;  Petitions 
signing  :  Saint-Huruge  sets  forth  from  the  Palais  Royal,  with 
an  escort  of  fifteen  hundred  individuals,  to  petition  in  person. 
*  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  15G. 


l!;U  THE  INSUmiECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

Eesolute,  or  seemingly  so,  is  the  tall  sbfiggy  Marquis,  is  the 
Cafe  de  Foy  :  but  resolute  also  is  Commandant- General  La- 
fayette, The  streets  are  all  beset  by  Patrols  :  Saint-Huruge 
is  stojDped  at  the  Barriire  des  Bons  Ilommes  ;  he  may  bellow 
like  the  bulls  of  Bashan  ;  but  absolutely  must  return.  The 
brethren  of  the  Palais  Royal  '  circulate  all  night,'  and  make 
motions,  under  the  open  canopy,  all  Coffeehouses  being  shut. 
Nevertheless  Lafayette  and  the  Townhall  do  prevail :  Saint- 
Huruge  is  thrown  into  jDrison  ;  Veto  Absolu  adjusts  itself  into 
Susjjensive  Veto,  prohibition  not  forevei-,  but  for  a  term  of 
time  ;  and  this  doom's-clamour  will  grow  silent,  as  the  others 
have  done. 

So  far  has  Consolidation  prospered,  though  with  difficulty, 
repressing  the  Nether  Sansculottic  world  ;  and  the  Constitu- 
tion shall  be  made.  With  difficulty  ;  amid  jubilee  and  scarc- 
ity, Patriotic  Gifts,  Bakers'-queues  ;  Abbe-Fauchet  Harangues, 
with  their  Amen  of  platoon-musketry  !  Scipio  American  us 
has  deserved  thanks  from  the  National  Assembly  and  France. 
They  offer  him  stipends  and  emoluments  to  a  handsome  ex- 
tent ;  all  which  stipends  and  emoluments  he,  covetous  of  far 
other  blessedness  than  mere  money,  does,  in  his  chivakous 
wa}'',  without  scruple,  refuse. 

To  the  Parisian  common  man,  meanwhile,  one  thing  re- 
mains inconceivable  :  that  now  when  the  Bastille  is  down,  and 
French  Liberty  restored,  grain  should  continue  so  dear.  Our 
Eights  of  Man  are  voted.  Feudalism  and  all  Tyranny  abol- 
ished ;  yet  behold  we  stand  in  queue!  Is  it  Aristocrat  fore- 
stallers ;  a  Court  still  bent  on  intrigues  ?  Something  is 
rotten,  somewhere. 

And  yet,  alas,  what  to  do  ?  Lafayette,  with  his  Patrols  pro- 
hibits everything,  even  complaint.  Saint-Huruge  and  other 
heroes  of  the  Veto  lie  in  durance.  People's-Friend  Marat  was 
seized  ;  Printers  of  Patriotic  Journals  are  fettered  and  forbid- 
den ;  the  very  Hawkers  cannot  cry,  till  they  get  license,  and 
leaden  badges.  Blue  National  Guards  ruthlessly  dissii:)ate  all 
groups  ;  scour,  with  levelled  bayonets,  the  Palais  Royal  itself. 
Pass,  on  youi-  affairs,  along  the  Rue  Taranne,  the  Patrol,  pre- 


0  lilCIIAlW,   0  MY  A'lyCr.  235 

senting  Lis  bayonet,  cries,  To  the  Left !  Turn  into  the  Rue 
Saint-B^noit,  he  cries.  To  the  Right!  A  judicious  Patriot 
(like  Camille  Desmoulins,  in  this  instance)  is  driven,  for 
quietness  sake,  to  take  the  gutter. 

O  much-suffering  People,  our  glorious  Revolution  is  evapo- 
rating in  tricolor  ceremonies,  and  complimentary  harangues  ! 
Of  which  latter,  as  Loustalot  acridly  calculates,  '  ujd wards  of 
tw^o  thousand  have  been  delivered  within  the  last  month,  at 
the  Townhall  alone.'*  And  our  mouths,  unfilled  with  bread, 
are  to  be  shut,  under  penalties?  The  Caricaturist  promul- 
gates his  emblematic  Tablature  :  Le  Pat rouillot lame  chassant  le 
Patriotmne,  Patriotism  driven  out  by  Patrollotism.  Ruthless 
Patrols ;  long  superfine  harangues ;  and  scanty  ill-baked 
loaves,  more  like  baked  Bath  bricks, — which  produce  an  ef- 
fect on  the  intestines !  Where  will  this  end  ?  In  con- 
solidation ? 


CHAPTER  II. 


o  rjciLum,  o  imy  king. 

For,  alas,  neither  is  the  Townhall  itself  without  misgiv- 
ings. The  Nether  Sansculottic  world  has  been  suppressed 
hitherto  :  but  then  the  Upper  Court-world !  Symptoms 
there  are  that  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  is  rallying. 

More  than  once  in  the  Town-hall  Sanhedrim  ;  often 
enough,  from  those  outsj)oken  Bakers'-queues,  has  the  wish 
uttered  itself  :  O  that  our  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  were 
here  :  that  he  could  see  with  his  own  eyes,  not  with  the  false 
eyes  of  Queens  and  Cabals,  and  his  really  good  heart  be  en- 
lightened !  For  falsehood  still  envu'ons  him ;  intriguing 
Dukes  de  Guiche,  with  Bodyguards  ;  scouts  of  Bouille  ;  a 
new  flight  of  intriguers,  now  that  the  old  is  flown.  What 
else  means  this  advent  of  the  Begiment  de  Flandre ;  entering 
Versailles,  as  we  hear,  on  the  23d  of  September,  with  two 
pieces  of  cannon  ?  Did  not  the  Versailles  National  Guard  do 
duty  at  the  Chateau  ?     Had  they  not  Swiss  ;  Hundred  Swiss  ; 

*  Re colutions-de- Paris  Newspaper  (cited  iu  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii, 
857). 


23G  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN 

tfa?-c?<?s-f/u-(7o7p.s,  Bodyguai-ds  so-called?  Nay,  it  would  seem, 
the  number  of  Bodyguards  ou  duty  has,  by  a  mauceuvre,  been 
doubled  :  the  new  reheving  Battalion  of  them  aiTived  at  its 
time  ;  but  the  old  relieved  one  does  not  depart  ! 

Actually,  there  runs  a  whisper  thi-ough  the  best  infonned 
Upper-Ch-cles,  or  a  nod  still  more  portentous  than  whisper- 
ing of  his  Majesty's  %ing  to  Metz  ;  of  a  Bond  (to  stand  by 
him  therein),  which  has  been  signed  by  Noblesse  and  Clerg}% 
to  the  incredible  amount  of  thirty,  or  even  of  sixty  thousand. 
Lafayette  coldly  whisjDers  it,  and  coldly  asseverates  it,  to 
Count  d'Estaing  at  the  dinner-table  ;  and  d'Estaing,  one  of 
the  bravest  men,  quakes  to  the  core  lest  some  lackey  over- 
hear it ;  and  tumbles  thoughtful,  without  sleep,  all  night* 
Regiment  de  Flandre,  as  we  said,  is  clearly  anived.  His 
Majesty,  they  say,  hesitates  about  sanctioning  the  fourth  of 
August ;  makes  observations,  of  chilling  tenor,  ou  the  very 
Rights  of  Man  !  Likewise,  may  not  all  persons,  the  Bakers- 
queues  themselves  discern,  on  the  streets  of  Paris,  the  most 
astonishing  number  of  Officers  ou  furlough,  Crosses  of  St. 
Louis,  and  such  Hke  ?  Some  reckon  '  from  a  thousand  to 
twelve  hundred.'  Officers  of  all  unifonns  ;  nay,  one  uniform 
never  before  seen  by  eye  :  green  faced  \\-ith  red  !  The  tri- 
color cockade  is  not  always  visible :  but  what,  in  the  name 
of  Heaven,  may  these  black  cockades,  which  some  wear,  fore- 
shadow ? 

Hunger  whets  eveiything,  especially  Suspicion  and  Indig- 
nation. Realities  themselves,  in  this  Paris,  have  grown  un- 
real ;  preternatural.  Phantasms  once  more  stalk  through  the 
brain  of  hungiy  France.  O  ye  laggards  and  dastards,  cry 
shrill  voices  from  the  Queues,  if  ye  had  the  hearts  of  men,  ye 
would  take  your  pikes  and  secondhand  firelocks,  and  look 
into  it ;  not  leave  your  wives  and  daughters  to  be  starved, 
murdered,  and  worse  ! — Peace,  women  !  The  heart  of  man  is 
bitter  and  heav;\' ;  Patriotism,  driven  out  by  PatroUotism, 
knows  not  what  to  resolve  on. 

♦  Brouillon  de  Lettre  de  M.  d'Estaing  d  la  Reine  (in  Histoire  Parle- 
mentaire,  iii.  24). 


O  RICHARD,  0  MY  KING.  237 

The  truth  is,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  has  ralhed  ;  to  a  certain  un- 
known extent.  A  changed  CEil-de-Boeuf :  with  Versailles 
National  Guards,  in  their  tricolor  cockades,  doing  duty  there ; 
fl,  Court  all  flaring  with  tricolor  !  Yet  even  to  a  tricolor 
Court  men  will  rally.  Ye  loyal  hearts,  burnt-out  Seigneurs, 
l-aUy  round  your  Queen  !  With  wishes  ;  which  will  j)roduce 
hopes  ;  which  will  produce  attempts  ! 

For  indeed  self-preservation  being  such  a  law  of  Nature, 
what  can  a  ralUed  Court  do,  but  attempt  and  endeavour,  or 
call  it  plot, — with  such  wisdom  and  unwisdom  as  it  has? 
They  will  fly,  escorted,  to  Metz,  where  brave  Bouille  com- 
mands ;  they  will  raise  the  Royal  Standard  :  the  Bond-signa- 
tures shall  become  armed  men.  Were  not  the  King  so  lan- 
guid !  Their  Bond,  if  at  all  signed,  must  be  signed  without 
his  pi'ivity. — Unhappy  King,  he  has  but  one  resolution  :  not 
to  have  a  civil  war.  For  the  rest,  he  still  hunts,  having  ceased 
lockmaking  ;  he  still  dozes,  and  digests  ;  is  clay  in  the  hands 
of  the  potter.  Ill  will  it  fare  with  him,  in  a  world  where  all 
is  helping  itself  ;  where,  as  has  been  written,  '  whosoever  is 
*  not  hammer  must  be  stithy  ; '  and  '  the  very  hyssop  on  the 
'  wall  grows  there,  in  that  chink,  because  the  whole  Universe 
'  could  not  prevent  its  growing  !  ' 

But  as  for  the  coming  up  of  this  Regiment  de  Flandre,  may 
it  not  be  urged  that  there  were  Saint-Huruge  Petitions,  and 
continual  meal-mobs  ?  Undebauched  Soldiers,  be  there  plot, 
or  only  dim  elements  of  a  plot,  are  always  good.  Did  not  the 
Versailles  Municipality  (an  old  Monarchic  one,  not  yet  re- 
founded  into  a  Democratic)  instantly  second  the  proposal? 
Nay,  the  very  Versailles  National  Guard,  wearied  with  con- 
tinual duty  at  the  Chateau,  did  not  object  ;  only  Draper  Le- 
cointre,  who  is  now  Major  Lecointre,  shook  his  head. — Yes, 
Friends,  surely  it  was  natural  this  Regiment  de  Flandre 
should  be  sent  for,  since  it  cotdd  be  got.  It  was  natural  that, 
at  sight  of  military  bandoleers,  the  heart  of  the  rallied  (Eil-de- 
Boeuf  should  revive  ;  and  Maids  of  Honour,  and  gentlemen  of 
honour,  sj)eak  comfortable  words  to  epauletted  defenders,  and 
to  one  another.  Natural  also,  and  mere  common  civility, 
that  the  Bodyguards,   a  Regiment  of    Gentlemen,    should 


238  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

invite  their  Flandre  brethren  to  a  Dinner  of  welcome  !— 
Such  invitation,  in  the  last  days  of  September,  is  given  and 
accepted. 

Dinners  are  defined  as  '  the  ultimate  act  of  communion  ; ' 
men  that  can  have  communion  in  nothing  else,  can  sj-mpa- 
thetically  eat  together,  can  still  rise  into  some  glow  of  brother- 
hood over  food  and  wine.  The  Dinner  is  fixed  on,  for  Thurs- 
day the  First  of  October ;  and  ought  to  have  a  fine  effect. 
Further,  as  such  Dinner  may  be  rather  extensive,  and  even 
the  Noncommissioned  and  the  Common  man  be  introduced, 
to  see  and  to  hear,  could  not  His  Majesty's  Of)era  Apart- 
ment, which  has  lain  quite  silent  ever  since  Kaiser  Joseph 
was  here,  be  obtained  for  the  purpose  ? — The  Hall  of  the 
Opera  is  granted  ;  the  Salon  d'Hercule  shall  be  drawing- 
room.  Not  only  the  Officers  of  Flandre,  but  of  the  Swiss,  of 
the  Hundred  Swiss ;  nay,  of  the  Versailles  National  Guard, 
such  of  them  as  have  any  loyalty,  shall  feast  :  it  will  be  a  Re- 
past like  few. 

And  now  suppose  this  Repast,  the  solid  part  of  it  trans- 
acted, and  the  first  bottle  over.  Suppose  the  customary  loyal 
toasts  drunk  ;  the  lung's  health,  the  Queen's  with  deafening 
vivats  ; — that  of  the  Nation  'omitted,'  or  even  'rejected.' 
Suppose  champagne  flowing  ;  with  pot-valorous  speech,  with 
instrumental  music  ;  empty  feathered  heads  growing  ever 
the  noisier,  in  their  own  emptiness,  in  each  other's  noise. 
Her  Majesty,  who  looks  unusually  sad  to-night  (his  Majesty 
sitting  dulled  with  the  day's  hunting),  is  told  that  the  sight  of 
it  would  cheer  her.  Behold  !  She  enters  there,  issuing  from 
her  State-rooms,  like  the  Moon  from  clouds,  this  faii-est  un- 
happy Queen  of  Hearts ;  royal  Husband  by  her  side,  young 
Dauphin  in  her  arms  !  She  descends  from  the  Boxes,  amid 
splendour  and  acclaim ;  walks  queenlike,  round  the  Tables  ; 
gracefully  escorted,  gi-acefully  nodding  ;  her  looks  full  of  sor- 
row yet  of  gratitude  and  daring,  with  the  hope  of  France  on 
her  mother -bosom  !  And  now,  the  band  stiikiug  up,  0  Bich- 
ard,  0  mon  Rot,  Vanicers  t'abandonne  (O  Richard,  O  my  King, 
the  world  is  all  forsaking  thee) — could  man  do  other  than 
rise  to  height  of  pity,  of  loyal  valour  ?     Could  featherheaded 


0  RICHARD,   0  MT  KINO.  £30 

young  ensigns  do  other  than,  by  white  Bourbon  Cockades, 
handed  them  from  fair  fingers  ;  by  waving  of  swords,  drawn 
to  pledge  the  Queen's  health  ;  by  tramphng  of  National  Cock- 
ades ;  by  scaling  the  Boxes,  whence  intrusive  murmurs  may 
come  ;  by  vociferation,  tripudiation,  sound,  fury  and  distrac- 
tion, within  doors  and  without, — testify  what  tempest-tost 
state  of  vacuity  they  are  in  ?  Till  champagne  and  tripudia,- 
tion  do  their  work,  and  all  lie  silent,  horizontal  ;  passively 
slumbering,  with  meed-of-battle  dreams  I — 

A  natural  Eepast ;  in  ordinai-y  times,  a  harmless  one  :  now 
fatal,  as  that  of  Thyestes  ;  as  that  of  Job's  Son's,  when  a  strong 
mnd  smote  the  four  corners  of  theii-  banquet-house  !  Poor 
ill-advised  Marie-Antoinette  ;  with  a  women's  vehemence, 
not  with  a  sovereign's  foresight !  It  was  so  natural,  yet  so 
unwise.  Next  day,  in  public  speech  of  ceremony,  her  Maj- 
esty declares  herself  '  delighted  with  the  Thursday.' 

The  heart  of  the  ffiil-de-Bceuf  glows  into  hope  ;  into  dar- 
ing, which  is  premature.  Rallied  Maids  of  Honour,  waited 
on  by  Abbes,  sew  '  white  cockades  ; '  distribute  them,  with 
words,  with  glances,  to  epauletted  youths  ;  who,  in  retui-n, 
may  kiss,  not  without  fervour,  the  fair  sewing  fingers.  Cap- 
tains of  horse  and  foot  go  swashing  with  '  enormous  white 
cockades  ; '  nay,  one  Versailles  National  Captain  has  mounted 
the  like,  so  witching  were  the  words  and  glances ;  and  laid 
aside  his  tricolor  !  "Well  may  Major  Lecointre  shake  his  head 
with  a  look  of  severity  ;  and  speak  audible  resentful  words. 
But  now  a  swashbuckler,  with  enormous  white  cockade,  over- 
hearing the  Major,  invites  him  insolently,  once  and  then  again 
elsewhere,  to  recant ;  and  failing  that,  to  duel.  AVhich  latter 
feat  Major  Lecointre  declares  that  he  will  not  perform,  not  at 
least  by  any  known  laws  of  fence  ;  that  he  nevertheless  will, 
according  to  the  mere  law  of  Nature,  by  dirk  and  blade,  '  ex- 
terminate '  any  '  vile  gladiator,'  who  may  insult  him  or  the 
Nation  ; — whereuj)on  (for  the  Major  is  actually  drawing  his 
implement)  '  they  are  parted,'  and  no  weasands  slit.* 

*  Moniteur  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  iii.  59,) — Deux  Amis  (iii.  128- 
141)  ;  Campan  (ii.  70-85),  &c.  &c. 


240  TUE  I^tiUliliECTlO:^   OF  WOMEN. 


CHAPTEK  m. 

BLACK    COCKADES. 

But  fancy  what  effect  this  Thyestes  Kepast  and  trampling 
on  the  National  Cockade,  must  have  had  in  the  Salle  des 
3Ienus  ;  in  the  famishing  Baker's-queues  at  Paris  !  Nay  such 
Theyestes  Repasts,  it  would  seem,  continue.  Flandre  has 
given  its  Counter-Dinner  to  the  Swiss  and  Hundred  Swiss  ; 
then  on  Saturday  there  has  been  another. 

Yes,  here  with  us  is  famine  ;  but  yonder  at  Versailles  is 
food  enough  and  to  spare !  Pati-iotism  stands  in  queue, 
shiveiing  hungerstruck,  instdted  by  Patrollotism  ;  while 
bloodyminded  Aristocrats,  heated  with  excess  of  high  li-sing, 
trample  on  the  National  Cockade.  Can  the  atrocity  be  true  ? 
Nay,  look  ;  green  uniforms  faced  with  red  ;  black  cockades, — 
the  colovu-  of  Night !  Are  we  to  have  military  onfall  ;  and 
and  death  also  by  starvation  ?  For  behold  the  Corbeil  Corn- 
boat,  which  used  to  come  twice  a-day,  with  its  Plaster-of- 
Paris  meal,  now  comes  only  once.  And  the  Townhall  is  deaf  ; 
and  the  men  are  laggard  and  dastard ! — At  the  Cafe  de  Foy, 
this  Saturday  evening,  a  new  thing  is  seen,  not  the  last  of  its 
kind  :  a  woman  engaged  in  public  speaking.  Her  poor  man, 
she  says,  was  put  to  silence  by  his  District  ;  their  Presidents 
and  Officials  would  not  let  him  speak.  Wherefore  she  here 
with  her  shrill  tongue  will  speak ;  denouncing  while  her 
breath  endures  the  Corbeil  Boat,  the  Plaster-of-Paris  bread, 
sacrilegious  Opera-dinners,  green  uniforms,  Pii-ate-Aristocrats, 
and  those  black  cockades  of  theu-s  ! — 

Truly,  it  is  time  for  the  black  cockades,  at  least,  to  vanish- 
Them  Patrollotism  itself  will  not  protect.  Nay,  sharp-tempered 
'M.  Tassin,'  at  the  Tuileries  parade  on  Sunday  morning,  for- 
gets all  National  military-  inile :  starts  from  the  ranks, 
wrenches  do'rni  one  black  cockade  which  is  swashing  ominous 
there  ;  and  tramples  it  fiercely  into  the  soil  of  France.  Pa- 
trollotism itself  is  not  without  suppressed  fury.     Also  the  Dis- 


BLACK  COCKADES.  241 

tiicts  begin  to  stir  ;  tlie  voice  of  President  Danton  rever- 
berates in  the  Cordeliers  :  People's-friend  Marat  has  flown  to 
Versailles  and  back  again  ; — swart  bird,  not  of  the  halcjou 
kind  * 

And  so  Patriot  meets  promenading  Patriot,  this  Sunday  ; 
and  sees  his  own  grim  care  reflected  on  the  face  of  another. 
Groups  in  spite  of  PatroUotism,  which  is  not  so  alert  as  usual, 
fluctuate  deliberative  ;  groups,  on  the  Bridges,  on  the  Quais, 
at  the  patriotic  Cafes.  And  ever  as  any  black  cockade  may 
emerge,  rises  the  many-voiced  growl  and  bark  :  A  has,  Down  ! 
All  black  cockades  are  ruthlessly  plucked  off :  one  individual 
picks  his  up  again  ;  kisses  it,  att3mpts  to  refix  it ;  but  a 
'  hundred  canes  start  into  the  air,'  and  he  desists.  Still  worse 
went  it  with  another  individual  ;  doomed,  by  extempore 
Plebiscitum,  to  the  Lanterne  ;  saved,  with  dif&culty,  by  some 
active  Corps-de- Garde, — Lafayette  sees  signs  of  an  efferves- 
cence ;  which  he  doubles  his  Patrols,  doubles  his  diligence,  to 
prevent.     So  passes  Sunday,  the  4th  of  October,  1789. 

Sullen  is  the  male  heart,  repressed  by  PatroUotism  ;  vehe- 
ment is  the  female,  irrepressible.  The  public-speaking  woman 
at  the  Palais  Eoyal  was  not  the  only  speaking  one  :— Men 
know  not  what  the  pantry  is,  when  it  grows  empty  ;  only 
house  mothers  know.  O  women,  wives  of  men  that  will  only 
calculate  and  not  act !  PatroUotism  is  strong  ;  but  Death,  by 
starvation  and  military  onfall,  is  stronger.  PatroUotism  re- 
presses male  Patriotism :  but  female  Patriotism  ?  WiU 
Guards  named  National  thrust  their  bayonets  into  the  bos- 
oms of  women  ?  Such  thoughts,  or  rather  such  dim  un- 
shaped  raw-material  of  a  thought,  ferments  universaUy  under 
the  female  night-cap  ;  and,  by  earliest  daybreak,  on  slight 
hint,  will  explode. 

*  Camille's  Newspaper,  Revolutions  de  Paris,  et  de  Brabant  (iu  His- 
toire  Parlementaire,  iii.  108). 
Vol.  I.— 16 


242  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE      MENADS. 

.  If  Voltaire  once,  in  splenetic  hiimom-,  asked  his  countrymen : 
"  But  you,  Gualches,  what  have  you  invented  ?  "  they  can  now 
answer :  The  Art  of  Insurrection.  It  was  an  art  needed  in 
these  last  singular  times  :  an  art  for  v.-hich  the  French  nature, 
so  full  of  vehemence,  so  free  from  depth,  was  perhaps  of  all 
others  the  fittest. 

Accordingly,  to  what  a  height,  one  may  well  say  of  perfection, 
has  this  branch  of  human  industry  been  carried  by  France, 
within  the  last  half-century  !  Insurrection,  which,  Lafayette 
thought  might  be  '  the  most  sacred  of  duties,'  ranks  now,  for 
the  French  people,  among  the  duties  which  they  can  perform. 
Other  mobs  are  duU  masses  ;  w^hich  roll  onwards  with  a  dull 
fierce  tenacity,  a  dull  fierce  heat,  but  emit  no  light-flashes  of 
genius  as  they  go.  The  French  mob,  again,  is  among  the  live- 
liest phenomena  of  our  world.  So  rapid,  audacious  ;  so  clear- 
sighted, inventive,  prompt  to  seize  the  moment ;  instinct  with 
life  to  its  finger-ends !  That  talent,  were  there  no  other,  of 
spontaneously  standing  in  queue,  distinguishes,  as  we  said,  the 
French  People  from  all  Peoples,  ancient  and  modern. 

Let  the  Reader  confess  too  that,  taking  one  thing  with  an- 
other, perhaps  few  terrestrial  Ai:)i3earances  are  better  worth 
considering  than  mobs.  Your  mob  is  a  genuine  outburst 
of  Nature  ;  issuing  from,  or  communicating  with,  the  deepest 
deep  of  Nature.  When  so  much  goes  grinning  and  grimacing 
as  a  lifeless  Formality,  and  under  the  stiff  buckram  no  heart 
can  be  felt  beating,  here  once  more,  if  nowhere  else,  is  a  Sin- 
cerity and  Reality.  Shudder  at  it  ;  or  even  shriek  over  it,  if 
thoii  must  ;  nevertheless  consider  it.  Such  a  complex  of 
human  Forces  and  Individualities  hurled  forth,  in  their  tran- 
scendental mood,  to  act  and  react,  on  circumstances  and  on 
one  another  ;  to  work  out  what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  The 
thing  thev  will  do  is  known  to  no  man  ;  least  of  all  to  them- 


THE  MENAES.  243 

selves.  It  is  the  inflammablest  immeasurable  Firework,  gen- 
erating, consuming  itself.  With  what  phases,  to  what  extent, 
with  what  results  it  will  burn  off,  Philosoi^hy  and  PersiDicacity 
conjecture  in  vain. 

'Man,'  as  has  been  written,  '  is  forever  interesting  to  man  ; 
'nay,  properly  there  is  nothing  else  interesting.'  In  which 
light  also,  may  we  not  discern  why  most  Battles  have  become 
so  wearisome  ?  Battles,  in  these  ages,  are  transacted  by 
mechanism  ;  with  the  sHghtest  possible  clevelopement  of 
human  indi^•iduality  or  spontaneity  :  men  now  even  die,  and 
kill  one  another,  in  an  artificial  manner.  Battles  ever  since 
Homers  time,  when  they  were  Fighting  Mobs,  have  mostly 
ceased  to  be  worth  looking  at,  worth  reading  of,  or  remember- 
ing. How  many  wearisome  bloody  Battles  does  History  strive 
to  represent ;  or  even,  in  a  husky  way,  to  sing  : — and  she  would 
omit  or  carelessly  slur  over  this  one  Insun-ection  of  Women  ? 

A  thought,  or  dim  raw-material  of  a  thought,  was  ferment- 
ing all  night,  universally  in  the  female  head,  and  might  ex- 
plode. In  squalid  garret,  on  Monday  morning  Mateniity 
awakes,  to  hear  children  weeping  for  bread.  Maternity  must 
forth  to  the  streets,  to  the  herb-markets  and  Bakers'-queues  ; 
meets  there  with  hunger-stricken  Maternity,  sympathetic,  ex- 
asperative.  O  we  unhappy  women  !  But,  instead  of  Baker's- 
queues,  why  not  to  Aristocrats'  palaces,  the  root  of  the  matter  ? 
Allans!  Let  us  assemble.  To  the  Hotel-de-ViDe  ;  to  Ver- 
sailles ;  to  the  Lanterne  ! 

In  one  of  the  Guardhouses  of  the  Quartier  Saint-Eustache, 
•  a  young  woman '  seizes  a  drum, — for  how  shall  National 
Guards  give  fire  on  women,  on  a  young  woman?  The  young- 
woman  seizes  the  drum  ;  sets  forth,  beating  it,  'uttering  cries 
relative  to  the  dearth  of  grains.'  Descend,  O  mothers  ;  de- 
scend, ye  Judiths,  to  food  and  revenge  ! — All  women  gather 
and  go  ;  crowds  storm  all  stairs,  force  out  aU  women  :  the 
female  Insurrectionary  Force,  according  to  Camille,  resembles 
the  English  Naval  one  ;  there  is  a  universal  '  Press  of  women.' 
Robust  Dames  of  the  Halle,  slim  Mantua-makers,  assiduous, 
risen  with  the  dawn  ;  ancient  Virginity  tripping  to  matins ; 


244:  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

the  Housemaid,  with  early  broom,  all  must  go.     Rouse  ye,  0 
women  ;  the  laggard  men  will  not  act ;  they  say,  we  ourselves 

may  act !  ,  l  • 

And  so,  like  snowbreak  from  the  mountains,  for  every  stair- 
case is  a  melted  brook,  it  storms  ;  tumultuous,  wild-shrilling 
towards  the  Hutel-de-Ville.  Tumultuous ;  with  or  without 
drum-music  :  for  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine  also  has  tucked 
up  its  gown  ;  and  with  besom-staves,  fire-irons,  and  even  rusty 
pistolsl;void  of  ammunition),  is  flowing  on.  Sound  of  it  flies, 
with  a  velocity  of  sound,  to  the  utmost  Barriers.  By  seven 
o'clock  on  this  raw  October  morning,  fifth  of  the  month,  the 
Townhall  wiU  see  wonders.  Nay,  as  chance  would  have  it,  a 
male  party  are  ah-eady  there  ;  clustering  tumultuously  round 
some  National  Patrol,  and  a  Baker  who  has  been  seized  with 
short  weights.  They  are  there  ;  and  have  even  lowered  the 
rope  of  the  Lanterne.  So  that  the  official  persons  have  to 
smuggle  forth  the  short-weighing  Baker  by  back  doors,  and 
even'^send  'to  all  the  Districts'  for  more  force. 

Grand  it  was,  says  Camille,  to  see  so  many  Judiths,  from 
eio-ht  to  ten  thousand  of  them  in  all,  rushing  out  to  search  into 
the  root  of  the  matter !  Not  unfrightful  it  must  have  been  ; 
ludicro-teri-ific,  and  most  unmanageable.  At  such  hour  the 
overwatched  Three  Hundred  are  not  yet  stirring :  none  but 
some  Clerks,  a  company  of  National  Guards  ;  and  M.  de  Gou- 
vion,  the  Major-general  Gouvion  has  fought  in  America  for 
the  cause  of  civil  Liberty  ;  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable  heart, 
but  deficient  in  head.  He  is,  for  the  moment,  in  his  back 
apartment ;  assuaging  Usher  MaiUard,  the  BastiUe-serjeant, 
who  has  come,  as  too  many  do,  with  '  representations.'  The 
assuagement  is  still  incomplete  when  our  Judiths  arrive. 

The  National  Guards  form  on  the  outer  stairs,  with  levelled 
bayonets  ;  the  ten  thousand  Judiths  press  up,  resistless  ;  with 
obtestations,  with  outspread  hands,— merely  to  speak  to  the 
Mayor.  The  rear  forces  them  ;  nay,  from  male  hands  in  the 
rear,  stones  already  fly :  the  National  Guard  must  do  one  of 
two  things  ;  sweep  the  Place  de  Greve  with  cannon,  or  else 
open  to  right  and  left.  They  open  ;  the  living  deluge  rushes 
in.     Through  all  rooms  and  cabinets,  upwards  to  the  topmost 


USUER  MAILLARD.  245 

6elfry  :  ravenous  ;  seeliing  arms,  seeking  Mayors,  seeking  jus- 
tice ; — while,  again,  the  better-dressed  speak  kindly  to  the 
Clerks ;  point  out  the  misery  of  these  poor  women  ;  also  their 
ailments,  some  even  of  an  interesting  sort.* 

Poor  M.  de  Gouvion  is  shiftless  in  this  extremity  ; — a  man 
shiftless,  perturbed  :  who  will  one  day  commit  suicide.  How 
haj^py  for  him  that  Usher  Maillard,  the  shifty,  was  there,  at 
the  moment,  though  making  representations !  Fly  back,  thou 
shifty  Maillard  :  seek  the  Bastille  Company  ;  and  O  return 
fast  with  it ;  above  all,  with  thy  own  shifty  head  !  For,  be- 
hold, the  Judiths  can  find  no  Mayor  or  Municipal :  scarcely  in 
the  topmost  belfry,  can  they  find  poor  Abbe  Lefevre,  the 
Powder-distributor.  Him,  for  want  of  a  better,  they  suspend 
there  :  in  the  pale  morning  light  ;  over  the  top  of  all  Paris, 
which  swims  in  one's  failing  eyes  : — a  horrible  end  ?  Nay, 
the  rope  broke,  as  French  ropes  often  did  ;  or  else  an  Amazon 
cut  it.  Abbe  Lefevre  falls,  some  twenty  feet,  rattling  among 
the  leads  ;  and  lives  long  years  after,  though  always  with  '  a 
tremblement  in  the  limbs.' f 

And  now  doors  fly  under  hatchets;  the  Judiths  have  broken 
the  Armoury  ;  have  seized  guns  and  cannons,  three  money- 
bags, paper-heaps  ;  torches  flare  :  in  a  few  minutes,  our  brave 
H6tel-de-Ville,  which  dates  from  the  Fourth  Henry,  will,  with 
all  that  it  holds,  be  in  flames  ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

USHEK     MAILLARD, 


In  flames,  truly, — were  it  not  that  Usher  Maillard,  swift  of 
foot,  shifty  of  head,  has  retm-ned  ! 

Maillard,  of  his  own  motion,  for  Gouvion  or  the  rest  would 
not  even  sanction  him, — snatches  a  drum  ;  descends  the 
Porch-stairs,  ran-tan,  beating  sharp,  with  loud  rolls,  his 
Rogues'-march :  To  Versailles!  Allovs ;  a  Versailles!  As 
men  beat  on  kettle  or  warmingpan,  when  angry  she-bees,  or 
say,  flying  desperate  wasps,  are  to  be  hived  ;  and  the  desper- 

*Deux  Amis,  iii.  141-1G8.    f  Dnsanlx:  Frise  fie  la  Bastille  (Note,  p.281). 


246  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

ate  insects  hear  it,  and  cluster  round  it, — simply  as  round 
a  guidance,  -where  there  was  none:  so  now  these  Menads 
round  shifty  Maillard,  Eiding-Usher  of  the  Chatelet.  The 
axe  pauses  uplifted  ;  Abbe  Lefevre  is  left  half-hanged :  from 
the  belfry  downwards  all  vomits  itself.  "What  rub-a-dub  is 
that  ?  Stanislas  Maillard,  Bastille-hero,  will  lead  us  to  Ver- 
sailles ?  Joy  to  thee,  Maillard ;  blessed  art  thou  above  Hiding 
Ushers  !     Away,  then,  away  ! 

The  seized  cannon  are  yoked  with  seized  cart-horses :  brown- 
locked  Demoiselle  Thcroigne,  with  pike  and  helmet,  sits  there 
as  gunneress,  'with  haughty  eye  and  serene  fair  counte- 
nance ; '  comparable,  some  think,  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  or 
even  recalling  'the  idea  of  Pallas  Athene.'*  Maillard  (for 
his  drum  still  rolls)  is  by  heaven-rending  acclamation,  ad- 
mitted General.  Maillard  hastens  the  languid  March.  Mail- 
lard, beating  rhythmic,  with  sharp  ran-tan,  all  along  the 
Quais,  leads  forward,  with  difficult}',  his  Menadic  host.  Such 
a  host — marched  not  in  silence.  The  bargeman  pauses  on 
the  Eiver  ;  all  wagoners  and  coach-drivers  fly ;  men  peer 
from  windows, — not  women,  lest  they  be  pressed.  Sight 
of  sights :  Bacchantes,  in  these  ultimate  Formalized  Ages ! 
Bronze  Henri  looks  on,  from  his  Pont-Neuf ;  the  Monarchic 
Louvre,  Medicean  Tuileries  see  a  day  hke  none  heretofore  seen. 

And  now  Maillard  has  his  Menads  in  the  Chav^ps  Elynees 
(Field  Tartarean  rather)  ;  and  the  Hutel-de-Vi]le  has  suflered 
comparatively  nothing.  Broken  doors  ;  an  Abbe  Lefevre, 
who  shall  never  more  distribute  powder ;  thi'ee  sacks  of 
money,  most  part  of  which  (for  Sansculottism,  though  fam- 
ishing, is  not  without  honour)  shall  be  returned  :  f  this  is  all 
the  damage.  Great  Maillard !  A  small  nucleus  of  Order  is 
round  his  drum  ;  but  his  outskirts  fluctuate  like  the  mad 
Ocean  :  for  Rascality  male  and  female  is  flowing  in  on  him, 
from  the  four  winds  :  gTiidance  there  is  none  but  in  his  sin- 
gle head  and  two  drumsticks. 

O  Maillard,  when,  since  War  first  was,   had  General  of 
Force  such  a  task  before  him,  as  thou  this  day  ?     Walter  the 
♦  Deux  Amis,  iii.  157.  f  Hist.  Pari   iii.  810. 


USHER  MAILLARD.  247 

Penniless  still  touches  the  feeling  heart :  but  then  Walter 
had  sanction  ;  had  space  to  turn  in  ;  and  also  his  Crusaders 
Avere  of  the  male  sex.  Thou,  this  day,  disowned  of  Heaven 
and  Earth,  art  General  of  Menads.  Their  inarticulate  frenzy 
thou  must,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  render  into  articulate 
■words,  into  actions  that  are  not  frantic.  Fail  m  it,  this  way 
or  that !  Pragmatical  Officiality,  Avith  its  penalties  and  law- 
books, waits  before  thee  ;  Menads  storm  behind.  If  such 
hewed  off  the  melodious  head  of  Orpheus,  and  hurled  it  into 
the  Peneus  waters,  what  may  they  not  make  of  thee, — thee 
rhythmic  merely,  with  no  music  but  a  sheepskin  di'um! — 
Maillard  did  not  fail.  Eemarkable  Maillard,  if  fame  were 
not  an  accident,  and  History  a  distillation  of  Rumour,  how 
remarkable  wert  thou  ! 

On  the  Elysian  Fields,  there  is  pause  and  fluctuation ;  but, 
for  Maillard,  no  return.  He  persuades  his  Menads,  clamor- 
ous for  arms  and  the  Arsenal,  that  no  arms  are  in  the  Ar- 
senal ;  that  an  unarmed  attitude,  and  petition  to  a  National 
Aasembl}',  will  be  the  best :  he  hastily  nominates  or  sanctions 
generalesses,  caj^tains  of  tens  and  fifties  ; — and  so,  in  loosest- 
flowing  order,  to  the  rhythm  of  some  'eight drums' — (having 
laid  aside  his  own),  with  the  Bastille  Volunteers  bringing  up 
liis  rear,  once  more  takes  the  road. 

Chaillot,  which  will  promptly  yield"  baked  loaves,  is  not 
plundered  ;  nor  are  the  Sivi-es  Potteries  broken.  The  old 
arches  of  Sevi-es  Bridge  eoiio  under  Menadic  feet ;  Seine 
River  gushes  on  with  his  perpetual  mui-mur  ;  and  Paris  flings 
after  us  the  boom  of  tocsin  and  alarm-drum, — inaudible,  for 
the  present,  amid  shrill-sounding  hosts,  and  the  splash  of 
rainy  weather.  To  Meudon,  to  Saint-Cloud,  on  both  hands, 
the  report  of  them  is  gone  abroad  ;  and  hearths,  this  evening, 
will  have  a  topic.  The  press  of  women  still  continues,  for  it 
is  the  cause  of  all  Eve's  Daughters,  mothers  that  are,  or  that 
hoj)e  to  be.  No  carriage-lady,  were  it  with  never  such  hys- 
terics, but  must  dismount,  in  the  mud  roads,  in  her  silk 
shoes,  and  walk.*  In  this  manner,  amid  wild  October  weather, 
they  a  wild  un winged  stork-flight,  through  the  astonished 
*  Deux  Amis,  iii    159. 


248  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  ]YOMeN. 

country  wend  their  way.  Travellers  of  all  sorts  they  stop ; 
especially  travellers  or  couriers  from  Paiis.  Deputy  Lecha- 
pelier,  in  his  elegant  vesture,  from  his  elegant  vehicle,  looks 
forth  amazed  through  his  sj^ectacles  ;  apprehensive  for  life  ; 
— states  eagerly  that  he  is  Patriot-Deputy  Lechapelier,  and 
even  Old-President  Lechapelier,  who  presided  on  the  Night 
of  Pentecost,  and  is  original  member  of  the  Breton  Club. 
Thereupon  '  rises  huge  shout  of  Vive  Lechaj^elier,'  and  several 
armed  persons  spring  up  behind  and  before  to  escort  him.* 

Nevertheless,  news,  despatches  from  Lafaj-ette,  or  vagiie 
noise  of  rumoux',  have  pierced  thi'ough  by  side  roads.  In  the 
National  Assembly,  while  all  is  busy  discussing  the  order  of 
the  day  ;  regretting  that  there  should  be  Anti-national  Eepasts 
in  OiDera-HaUs  ;  that  his  Majesty  should  still  hesitate  about 
accepting  the  Eights  of  Man,  and  hang  conditions  and  perad- 
ventures  on  them, — Mii-abeau  steps  up  to  the  President,  expe- 
rienced Mounier  as  it  chanced  to  be  ;  and  articulates,  in  bass 
under-tone  :  "il/oi/ju'e?*,  Paris  marche  sur  7ious  (Paris  is  march- 
ing on  us.)  " — "  May  be  {Je  n'en  sain  rien) !  " — "  Believe  it  or 
"  disbelieve  it,  that  is  not  my  concern  ;  but  Paris,  I  sa}',  is 
"marching  on  us.  Fall  suddenly  unwell;  go  over  to  the 
"  Chateau  ;  tell  them  this.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose." — 
"  Paris  marching  on  us  ?  "  responds  Mounier,  with  an  atra- 
biliar  accent :  "  Well,  so  much  the  better  !  We  shall  the 
"  sooner  be  a  Republic."  IMirabeau  quits  him,  as  one  quits  an 
experienced  President  getting  bhndfold  into  deep  waters ; 
and  the  order  of  the  day  continues  as  before. 

Yes,  Paris  is  marcliiug  on  us  ;  and  more  than  the  women 
of  Paris !  Scarcely  was  Maillard  gone,  when  M.  de  Gouvion's 
message  to  all  the  Districts,  and  such  tocsin  and  diaimming 
of  the  generale,  began  to  take  effect.  Armed  National  Guards 
from  every  district ;  especially  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Centre, 
who  are  our  old  Gardes  Fran^aises,  arrive,  in  quick  sequence, 
on  the  Place  de  Greve.  An  '  immense  people  '  is  there  ;  Saint- 
Antoine,  with  pike  and  rusty  firelock,  is  all  crowding  thither, 
be  it  welcome  or  unwelcome.     Tlie  Centre  Grenadiers  are  I'e- 

''  Dfux  Amis,  ii    177.   I  ictionuuire  ilt.s  Ilonuuos  '.rarquuns,  ii   379. 


USHER  MAILLARD.  249 

ceived  ^Yitll  cheering  :  "  it  is  not  cheers  that  we  want,"  an- 
swer they  gloomily  ;  "  the  Nation  has  been  insulted  ;  to  arms, 
"  and  come  with  us  for  orders  !  "  Ha,  sits  the  wind  so  ?  Pa- 
triotism and  Patrollotism  are  now  one  ! 

The  Three  Hundred  have  assembled  ;  '  all  the  Committees 
are  in  activity  ; '  Lafayette  is  dictating  desj^atches  for  Ver- 
sailles, when  a  Deputation  of  the  Centre  Grenadiers  intro- 
duces itself  to  him.  The  Deputation  makes  militarj^  obei- 
sance ;  and  thus  speaks,  not  without  a  kind  of  thought  in  it : 
"  Mon  General,  we  are  deputed  by  the  Six  Companies  of  Gren- 
"  adiers.  We  do  not  think  you  a  traitor,  but  we  think  the 
"  Government  betraj'S  you  ;  it  is  time  that  this  end.  We  can- 
"  not  turn  our  bayonets  against  women  crying  to  us  for  bread. 
"  The  people  are  miserable,  the  source  of  the  mischief  is  at 
"  Versailles :  we  must  go  seek  the  King,  and  bring  him  to 
"  Paris.  We  must  exterminate  [exterminer)  the  Reyiment  de 
"  Flandre  and  the  Gardes-du-CorpB,  w-ho  have  dared  to  tram- 
"  pie  on  the  National  Cockade.  If  the  King  be  too  weak  to 
"  wear  his  crown,  let  him  lay  it  down.  You  will  crown  his 
"  Son,  you  will  name  a  council  of  Kegency  ;  and  all  Avill  go 
"  better."*  Reproachful  astonishment  paints  itself  on  the  face 
of  Lafayette  ;  speaks  itself  from  his  eloquent  chivalrous  lips  : 
in  vain.  *'My  General,  w'e  would  shed  the  last  drop  of  our 
"  blood  for  you  ;  but  the  root  of  the  mischief  is  at  Versailles  ; 
"  we  must  go  and.  bring  the  King  to  Paris ;  all  the  people 
"  wish  it,  tout  lepeiq^le  le  veut." 

My  General  descends  to  the  outer  staircase  ;  and  harangues : 
once  more  in  vain.  "  To  Versailles  !  To  Versailles  !  "  Mayor 
Bailly,  sent  for  through  floods  of  Sansculottism,  attempts  aca- 
demic oratory  from  his  gilt  state-coach ;  realises  nothing 
but  infinite  hoarse  cries  of  :  "  Bread  !  To  Versailles  !  " — and 
gladly  shrinks  within  doors.  Lafayette  mounts  the  white 
charger ;  and  again  harangues,  and  reharangues  :  with  elo- 
quence, with  firmness,  indignant  dem.onstration  ;  with  all 
things  but  persuasion.  "  To  Versailles  !  To  Versailles  !  "  So 
lasts  it,  hour  after  hour  ;— for  the  space  of  half  a  day. 

The  great  Scipio  Americanus  can  do  nothing  ;  not  so  much 
*  Dc-ax  Amis,  iii.  ICl. 


250  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

as  escape.  "MtJi^bleu,  mon  General,"  cry  the  Grenadiers  serry- 
ing  their  ranks  as  the  white  charger  makes  a  motion  that  way, 
"You  will  not  leave  us,  you  will  abide  with  us  !  "  A  perilous 
juncture  :  Mayor  Bailly  and  the  Municij^als  sit  quaking  with- 
in doors  ;  My  General  is  prisoner  without :  the  Place  de 
Gr Jve,  with  its  thirty  thousand  Eegulars,  its  Avhole  irregular 
Saint-Antoine  and  Saint-Marceau,  is  one  minatory  mass  of 
clear  or  rusty  steel ;  all  hearts  set  with  a  moody  fixedness,  on 
one  object.  Moody,  fixed  are  all  hearts  :  tranquil  is  no  heart, — 
if  it  be  not  that  of  the  white  charger,  who  paws  there,  with 
arched  neck,  composedly  champing  his  bit ;  as  if  no  World, 
with  its  Dynasties  and  Eras,  were  now  rushing  down.  The 
drizzly  day  bends  westward  ;  the  cry  is  still  :   "  To  Versailles !  " 

Nay,  now,  borne  from  afar,  come  quite  sinister  cries ; 
hoarse,  reverberating  in  longdrawn  hollow  murmurs,  with  syl- 
lables too  like  those  of  "  Lanterne  !  "  Or  else,  irregular  Sans- 
culottism  maybe  marching  off,  of  itself ;  with  pikes,  nay,  with 
cannon.  The  inflexible  Scipio  does  at  length,  by  aide-de- 
camp, ask  of  the  Municipals  :  Whether  or  not  he  may  go  ?  A 
Letter  is  handed  out  to  him,  over  anned  heads  ;  sixty  thou- 
sand faces  flash  fixedly  on  his,  there  is  stillness  and  no  bosom 
breathes,  till  he  have  read.  By  Heaven,  he  grows  suddenly 
pale  !  Do  the  Municipals  permit  ?  '  Permit  and  even  or- 
der,'— since  he  can  no  other.  Clangour  of  approval  rends  the 
welkin.     To  your  ranks,  then  ;  let  us  march  i 

It  is,  as  we  compute,  towards  three  in  the  afternoon.  In- 
dignant National  Guards  may  dine  for  once  from  their  haver- 
sack :  dined  or  undined,  they  march  with  one  heart.  Paris 
flings  up  her  windows,  claps  hands,  as  the  Avengers,  with 
their  shrilling  drums  and  shalms  tramp  by  ;  she  will  then  sit 
pensive,  appi-ehensive,  and  pass  rather  a  sleepless  night.*  On 
the  white  charger,  Lafayette,  in  the  slowest  possible  manner, 
going  and  coming,  and  eloquently  haranguing  among  the 
ranks,  rolls  onward  with  his  thirty  thousand.  Saint-Antoine, 
with  pike  and  canuon,  has  preceded  him  ;  a  mixed  multitude, 
of  all  and  of  no  arms,  hovers  on  his  flanks  and  skirts ;  the 
country  once  more  pauses  agape :  Paria  marche  sur  nous. 
*  Donx  '  mi:5   iii    iGo. 


TO  VERSAILLES.  251 

CHAPTEK  VI. 

TO    VERSAILLES. 

Foe,  indeed,  about  tins  same  moment,  Maillard  has  halted 
his  draggled  Menads  on  the  last  hill-top  ;  and  now  Versailles, 
and  the  Chateau  of  Versailles,  and  far  and  wide  the  inheri- 
tance of  Eoyalty  opens  to  the  wondering  eye.  From  far  on 
the  right  over  Marly  and  Saint-Germains-en-Laye-;  round 
towards  Eambouillet,  on  the  left :  beautiful  all ;  softly  em- 
bosomed ;  as  if  in  sadness,  in  the  dim  moist  weather  !  And 
near  before  us  is  Versailles,  New  and  Old  ;  with  that  broad 
f  rondent  A  venue  de  Versailles  between, — stately-frondent,  broad, 
three  hundred  feet  as  men  reckon,  with  its  four  Rows  of 
Elms ;  and  then  the  Chateau  de  Versailles,  ending  in  royal 
Parks  and  Pleasances,  gleaming  lakelets,  arbours,  Labyrinths, 
the  Menagerie,  and  Great  and  Little  Trianon.  High-towered 
dwellings,  leafy  pleasant  places ;  where  the  gods  of  this  lower 
world  abide :  whence,  nevertheless,  black  Care  cannot  be  ex- 
cluded ;  whither  Menadic  Hunger  is  even  now  advancing, 
armed  with  pike-thyrsi ! 

Yes,  yonder,  Mesdames,  where  our  straight  frondent  Avenue, 
joined,  as  you  note,  by  Two  frondent  brother  Avenues  from 
this  hand  and  from  that,  spreads  out  into  Place  Royal  and 
Palace  Forecoui't ;  yonder  is  tbe  Salle  des  Menus.  Yonder  an 
august  Assembly  sits  regenerating  France.  Forecourt,  Grand 
Court,  Court  of  Marble,  Court  narrowing  into  Court  you  may 
discern  next,  or  fancy  :  on  the  extreme  verge  of  which  that 
glass-dome,  visibly  glittering  like  a  star  of  hope,  is  the — CEil- 
de-Boeuf !  Yonder,  or  nowhere  in  the  world,  is  bread  baked 
for  us.  But,  O  Mesdames,  were  not  one  thing  good  :  That  our 
cannons,  with  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  all  show  of  wai",  be 
put  to  the  rear?  Submission  beseems  petitioners  of  a  Na- 
tional Assembly  ;  we  are  strangers  in  Versailles, — whence,  too 
audibly,  there  comes  even  now  a  sound  as  of  tocsin  and  gen- 
erale !  Also  to  put  on,  if  possible,  a  cheerful  countenance, 
hiding  our  sorrows  ;  and  even  to  sing?     Sorrow,  pitied  of  the 


252  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

Heavens,  is  hateful,  suspicious  to  the  Earth.  So  couusels 
shifty  Maillard  ;  haranguing  his  Menacls,  on  the  heights  near 
Ver. failles.* 

Cunning  Maillard's  dispositions  are  obeyed.  The  draggled 
Insurrectionists  advance  up  the  Avenue,  '  in  three  columns,' 
among  the  four  Elm-rows  ;  'singing  Henri  Qiiatre,''  with  what 
melody  they  can  ;  and  shouting  Vice  le  Roi.  Versailles,  though 
the  Elm-rows  are  dripping  wet,  crow^ds  from  both  sides,  with : 
"  Vicent  nos  Parisiennes,  Our  Paris  ones  forever!  "' 

Prickers,  scouts  have  been  out  towards  Paris,  as  the  rumour 
deepened :  whereby  his  Majesty,  gone  to  shoot  in  the  A^'oods 
of  Meudon,  has  been  happily  discovered,  and  got  home  ;  and 
the  ghurale  and  tocsin  set  a-sounding.  The  Bodyguards  ai'e 
already  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Palace  Grates  ;  and  look 
down  the  Avenue  de  Versailles  ;  sulky,  in  Avet  buckskins. 
Flandre  too  is  there,  repentant  of  the  Opera-Eepast.  Also 
Dragoons  dismounted  are  there.  Finally  Major  Lecointre 
and  what  he  can  gather  of  the  Versailles  National  Guard  ; — 
though,  it  is  to  be  observed,  our  Colonel,  that  same  sleepless 
Count  d'Estaing,  giving  neither  order  nor  ammunition,  has 
vanished  most  imiDroperly  ;  one  supposes,  into  the  (Eil-de- 
Boeuf.  Ked-coated  Swiss  stand  w^ithin  the  Grates,  under 
arms.  There  likewise,  in  their  inner  room,  '  all  the  iMinisters,' 
Saint-Priest,  Lamentation  Pompignan  and  the  rest,  are  assem- 
bled with  M.  Necker  :  they  sit  with  him  there  ;  blank,  expect- 
ing what  the  hour  will  bring. 

President  Mounier,  though  he  answered  IMirabeau  with  a 
tant  mieux,  and  affected  to  slight  the  matter,  had  his  own  fore- 
bodings. Surely,  for  these  four  weary  hours,  he  has  reclined 
not  on  roses  !  The  order  of  the  day  is  getting  forwai'd :  a  Dep- 
utation to  his  Majesty  seems  proper,  that  it  might  please  him 
to  grant  '  Acceptance  pure  and  simple '  to  those  Constitution- 
Articles  of  ours  ;  the  *  mixed  qualified  Acceptance,'  with  its 
peradventures,  is  satisfactory  to  neither  gods  nor  men. 

So  much  is  clear.  And  yet  there  is  more,  which  no  man 
speaks,  which  all  men  now  vaguely  understand.  Disquietude, 
*  Sec  HLst   Pari    iii    (70-117)  ;  Deux  Amis  (iii.  160-177),  &c. 


TO  VELSAILLES.  -53 

absence  of  raiud  is  ou  every  face  ;  Members  whisper,  uneasily 
come  and  go  :  the  order  of  the  day  is  evidently  not  the  day's 
want,  till  at  length,  from  the  outer  gates,  is  heard  a  rustling 
and  justling,  shrill  uproar  and  squabbling,  muffled  by  walls  ; 
which  testifies  that  the  hour  is  come  !  Rushing  and  crushing 
one  hears  now  ;  then  enter  Usher  Maillard,  with  a  Deputation 
of  Fifteen  muddy  dripping  Women,— having,  by  incredible 
industry,  and  aid  of  all  the  macers,  persuaded  the  rest  to  wait 
out  of  doors.  National  Assembly  shall  now,  therefore,  look 
its  august  task  directly  in  the  face  :  regenerative  Constitu- 
tionalism has  an  unregenerate  Sansculottism  bodily  in  front  of 
it ;  crying,  "  Bread  !     Bread  ! " 

Shifty  Maillard,  translating  frenzy  into  articulation ;  repres- 
sive with  the  one  hand,  expostulative  with  the  other,  does  his 
best ;  and  really,  though  not  bred  to  public  speaking,  manages 
rather  well :— In  the  present  dreadful  rarity  of  grains,  a  Depu- 
tation of  Female  Citizens  has,  as  the  august  Assembly  can  dis- 
cern, come  out  from  Paris  to  petition.  Plots  of  Aristocrats 
are  too  evident  in  the  matter ;  for  example,  one  miller  has 
been  bribed  '  by  a  bank-note  of  200  hvres'  not  to  grind, — 
name  unknown  to  the  Usher,  but  fact  probable,  at  least  indu- 
bitable. Further,  it  seems,  the  National  Cockade  has  been 
trampled  on  ;  also  there  are  Black  Cockades,  or  were.  All 
which  things  will  not  an  august  National  Assembly,  the  hope 
of  France,  take  into  its  wise  immediate  consideration? 

And  Menadic  Hunger,  impressible,  crying  "Black  Cock- 
ades," crying  "  Bread,  Bread,"  adds,  after  such  fashion  :  Will 
it  not  ? — Yes,  Messieurs,  if  a  Deputation  to  his  Majesty,  for 
the  '  Acceptance  pm-e  and  simple,'  seemed  proper, — how  much 
more  now,  for  '  the  afflicting  situation  of  Paris  ; '  for  the  calm- 
ing of  this  effervescence  !  President  Moimier,  with  a  speedy 
Deputation,  among  whom  we  notice  the  respectable  figure  of 
Doctor  Guillotin,  gets  himself  forthwith  on  march.  Yice- 
President  shall  continue  the  order  of  the  day  ;  Usher  Mail- 
lard shall  stay  by  him  to  repress  the  women.  It  is  four 
o'clock,  of  the  miserablest  afternoon,  when  Mounier  steps  out. 
O  experienced  Mounier,  what  an  afternoon  ;  the  last  of  thy 
political  existence  !     Better  had  it  been  to  '  fall  suddenly  un- 


25i  THE  I2^SURRECTI0N  OF  ]VOXBN. 

■well,'  while  it  was  yet  time.  For,  behold,  the  Esplanade,  over 
all  its  s^Dacious  expanse,  is  covered  with  groups  of  squalid 
dripping  Women  ;  of  lankhaired  male  Eascality,  armed  with 
axes,  rusty  pikes,  old  muskets,  ironshod  clubs  (batons  ferrcs, 
■which  end  in  knives  or  sword-blades,  a  kind  of  extempore 
billhook)  ; — looking  nothing  but  hungry  revolt.  The  rain 
pours  :  Gardes-du- Corps  go  caracoling,  through  the  groups 
'  amid  hisses  ; '  irritating  and  agitating  what  is  but  dispersed 
here  to  reunite  there. 

Innumerable  squalid  women  beleaguer  the  President  and 
Deputation";  insist  on  going  with  him  :  has  not  his  Majesty 
himself,  looking  from  the  window,  sent  out  to  ask.  What  we 
wanted  ?  "  Bread  and  speech  with  the  King  {Du  pain,  et  parler 
au  Boi),"  that  was  the  answer.  Twelve  w'omen  are  clamor- 
ously added  to  the  Deputation  ;  and  march  with  it,  across  the 
Esplanade  ;  through  dissipated  groups,  caracoling  Bodyguards, 
and  the  pouring  rain. 

President  Mounier,  unexpectedly  augmented  by  Twelve 
Women,  copiously  escorted  by  Hunger  and  Rascality,  is  him- 
self mistaken  for  a  group  :  himself  and  his  Women  are  dis- 
persed by  caracolers  ;  rally  again  with  difficulty,  among  the 
mud.*  Finally  the  Grates  are  opened  ;  the  Deputation  gets 
access,  with  the  Twelve  Women  too  in  it  ;  of  which  latter, 
Five  shall  even  see  the  face  of  his  Majesty.  Let  wet  Menad- 
ism,  in  the  best  spirits  it  can,  expect  their  return. 


CHAPTEE  Vn. 

AT    VEKSAILLES, 


But  already  Pallas  Athene  (in  the  shape  of  Demoiselle  The- 
roigne)  is  bus}'  with  Flandre  and  the  dismounted  Dragoons. 
She,  and  such  women  as  are  fittest,  go  through  the  ranks  ; 
speak  with  an  earnest  jocosity  ;  clasp  rough  troopers  to  their 
patriot  bosom,  crush  dowTi  spontoons  and  musketoons  with 
soft  arms  :  can  a  man,  that  were  -worthy  of  the  name  of  man, 
attack  famishing  patriot  women  ? 

*  Moiuiier,  Espose  Justilicatif  (cited  in  Deux  Amis,  iii.  185). 


AT  VERSAILLES.  255 

One  reads  tbat  Theroigne  had  bags  of  money,  which  she 
distributed  over  Flaudre  :  furnished  by  whom  ?  Alas,  with 
money-bags  one  seldom  sits  on  insurrectionary  cannon.  Cal- 
umnious lloyalism  !  The'roigne  had  only  the  limited  earnings 
of  her  profession  of  unfortunate-female  ;  money  she  had  not, 
but  brown  locks,  the  figure  of  a  Heathen  Goddess,  and  an 
eloquent  tongue  and  lieart. 

Meanwhile,  Saint- Antoine,  in  groups  and  troops,  is  contin- 
ually arriving  ;  wetted,  sulky  ;  with  pikes  and  impromptu  bill- 
hooks :  diiven  thus  far  by  popular  fixed-idea.  So  many  hir- 
sute figures  driven  hither,  in  that  manner :  figures  that  have 
come  to  do  they  know  not  what  ;  figures  that  have  come  to 
see  it  done  !  Distinguished  among  all  figures,  who  is  this,  of 
gaunt  stature,  with  leaden  breastplate,  though  a  small  one  ;* 
bushy  in  red  grizzled  locks  ;  nay,  with  long  tile-beard  ?  It  is 
Jourdan,  unjust  dealer  in  mules  ;  a  dealer  no  longer,  but  a 
Painter's  Lay-figure,  playing  truant  this  day.  From  the  neces- 
sities of  Art  comes  his  long  tile-beard  ;  whence  his  leaden 
breastplate  (unless  indeed  he  were  some  Hawker  licensed  by 
leaden  badge)  may  have  come, — will  perhaps  remain  forever 
a  Historical  Problem.  Another  Saul  among  the  people  we 
discern  :  '  Ptre  Adam,  Father  Adam,'  as  the  groups  name  him  ; 
to  us  better  known  as  bull-voiced  Marquis  Saint-Huruge  ;  hero 
of  the  Veto  ;  a  man  that  has  had  losses,  and  deserved  them. 
The  tall  Marcjuis,  emitted  some  days  ago  from  limbo,  looks  peri- 
patetically  on  this  scene,  from  imder  his  umbrella,  not  with- 
out interest.  All  which  persons  and  things,  hurled  together 
as  we  see  ;  Pallas  Athene,  busy  with  Flandre  ;  patriotic  Ver- 
sailles National  Guards,  short  of  ammunition,  and  deserted 
by  d'Estaing  their  Colonel,  and  commanded  by  Lecointre 
their  Major  ;  then  caracoling  Body  guards,  sour,  disj)mted, 
with  their  buckskins  wet ;  and  finally  this  flowing  sea  of  indig- 
nant Squalor, — may  they  not  give  rise  to  occurrences  ? 

Behold,  however,  the  Twelve  She-deputies  return  from  the 
ChateaiL     Without  Px-esident  Mounier,  indeed  ;  but  radiant 
*  See  Weber,  ii.  185-231. 


25G  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

with  joy,  sliouting"  "  Life  to  the  King  and  his  House."  Appar- 
ently the  news  are  good,  Mesdames  ?  News  of  the  best !  Five 
of  us  were  admitted  to  the  internal  splendours,  to  the  Royal 
Presence.  This  slim  damsel,  '  Louison  Cliabray,  worker  in 
sculpture,  aged  only  seventeen,'  as  being  of  the  best  looks  and 
address,  her  we  ajDpointed  speaker.  On  whom,  and  indeed  on 
all  of  us,  his  Majesty  looked  nothing  but  graciousness.  N.n-, 
when  Louison,  addressing  him,  was  like  to  faint,  he  took  her 
in  his  royal  arms  ;  and  said  gallantly,  "  It  was  well  worth  while 
(Elle  en  valtd  hien  la  peine)."  Consider,  O  women,  what  a 
King  !  His  words  were  of  comfort,  and  that  only  :  there  shall 
be  provisions  sent  to  Paris,  if  provision  is  in  the  world  ;  gi-ains 
shall  circulate  free  as  air  ;  millers  shall  grind,  or  do  worse, 
while  their  millstones  endure  ;  and  nothing  be  left  wrong 
which  a  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  can  right. 

Good  news  these  ;  but,  to  wet  Menads,  ail-too  incredible  ! 
There  seems  no  proof,  then  ?  Words  of  comfort, — they  are 
words  only  ;  which  will  feed  nothing.  O  miserable  People, 
betrayed  by  Aristocrats,  who  corrupt  thy  very  messengers  ! 
In  his  royal  arms.  Mademoiselle  Louison?  In  his  arms? 
Thou  shameless  minx,  worthy  of  a  name — that  shall  be  name- 
less !  Yes,  thy  skin  is  soft :  ours  is  rough  with  hardship  ;  and 
well  wetted,  waiting  here  in  the  rain.  No  children  hast  thou 
hungry  at  home  ;  only  alabaster  dolls,  that  weep  not !  The 
traitress  !  To  the  Lanterne ! — and  so  poor  Louison  Chabray, 
no  asseveration  or  shrieks  availing  her,  fair  slim  damsel,  late 
in  the  arms  of  Royalty,  has  a  garter  round  her  neck,  and  furi- 
bund  Amazons  at  each  end  ;  is  about  to  perish  so, — when 
two  Bodyguards  gallop  up,  indignantly  dissipating ;  and  res- 
cue her.  The  misci-edited  Twelve  hasten  back  to  the  Cha- 
teau, for  an  '  answer  in  writing.' 

Nay,  behold,  a  new  flight  of  Menads,  with  'M.  Brunout 
Bastille  Volunteer,' as  impressed-commandant,  at  the  head  of 
it.  These  also  will  advance  to  the  Grate  of  the  Grand  Court, 
and  see  what  is  toward.  Human  patience,  in  wet  buckskins, 
has  its  limits.  Bodyguard  Lieutenant,  M.  de  Savonnieres,  for 
one  moment,  lets  his  temper,  long  provoked,  long  pent,  give 
wa}'.     He  not  only  dissipates  these  latter  Menads  ;  but  cara- 


A2-  VERSAILLES.  257 

coles  and  cuts,  or  indignantly  flourishes,  at  M.  Bruuout,  the 
impressed-commandant ;  and  finding  great  relief  in  it,  even 
chases  him  ;  Brunout  flying  nimbly,  though  in  a  pirouette 
manner,  and  now  with  sword  also  drawn.  At  which  sight  of 
wrath  and  victory,  two  other  Bodyguards  (for  wrath  is  conta- 
gious, and  to  pent  Bodyguards  is  so  solacing)  do  likewise  give 
way  ;  give  chase,  with  brandished  sabre,  and  in  the  air  make 
hon-id  circles.  So  that  poor  Brunout  has  nothing  for  it  but  to 
retreat  with  accelerated  nimbleness,  through  rank  after  rank  ; 
Parthian-like,  fencing  as  he  flies ;  above  all,  shouting  lustily, 
"  On  nous  laisse  assassine7%  They  are  getting  us  assassinated  ? " 

Shameful !  Three  against  one  !  Growls  come  from  the 
Lecointrian  ranks  ;  bellowings, — lastly  shots.  Savonnieres' 
arm  is  raised  to  strike  :  the  bullet  of  a  Lecointrain  musket 
shatters  it ;  the  brandished  sabre  jingles  down  harmless.  Bru- 
uout has  escaped,  this  duel  well  ended  :  but  the  Avild  howl  of 
war  is  everywhere  beginning  to  pipe  ! 

The  Amazons  recoil  ;  Saint-Autoine  has  its  cannon  pointed 
(full  of  grapeshot)  ;  thrice  aj^plies  the  lit  flambeau  ;  which 
thrice  i-efuses  to  catch, — the  touchholes  are  so  wetted  ;  and 
voices  cry  :  "  Arrctez,  il  neat  2MS  temps  encore,  Stop,  it  is  not 
yet  time  !  "  *  Messieurs  of  the  Garde -du-Corps,  ye  had  orders 
not  to  fire  ;  nevertheless  two  of  you  limp  dismounted,  and  one 
warhorse  lies  slain.  Were  it  not  well  to  draw  back  out  of 
shot-range  ;  finally  to  file  off, — into  the  interior  ?  If  in  so  fil- 
ing off,  there  did  a  musketoou  or  two  discharge  itself,  at  these 
armed  shopkeepers,  hooting  and  crowing,  could  man  won- 
der ?  Draggled  are  your  white  cockades  of  an  enormous  size  ; 
would  to  Heaven  they  were  got  exchanged  for  tricolor  ones ! 
Your  buckskins  are  wet,  your  hearts  heavy.  Go,  and  return 
not! 

The  Bodyguards  file  off,  as  we  hint ;  giving  and  receiving 
shots  ;  drawing  no  life-blood  ;  leaving  boundless  indignation. 
Some  three  times  in  the  thickening  dusk,  a  glimpse  of  them 
is  seen,  at  this  or  the  other  Portal :  saluted  always  with  exe- 
crations, with  the  whew  of  lead.  Let  but  a  Bodyguard  show 
face,  he  is  hunted  by  Rascality  ; — for  instance,  poor  '  M.  de 
*  Deux  Amis,  iii.  193-201. 
Vol.  I.— 17 


258  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

Mouclieton  of  the  Scotcli  Company,'  owner  of  the  slain  war- 
horse  ;  and  has  to  be  smuggled  off  by  Versailles  Captains. 
Or  rusty  firelocks  belch  after  him,  shivering  asunder  his— 
hat.  In  the  end,  by  superior  Order,  the  Bodyguards,  all  but 
the  few  on  immediate  duty,  disappear  ;  or  as  it  Avere  abscond  ; 
and  march,  under  cloud  of  night  to  Eambouillet.* 

We  remark  also  that  the  Versaillese  have  now  got  ammuni- 
tion :  all  afternoon,  the  official  Person  could  find  none  ;  till,  in 
these  so  critical  moments,  a  patriotic  Sublieutenant  set  a  pis- 
tol to  his  ear,  and  would  thank  him  to  find  some, — which  he 
thereupon  succeeded  in  doing.  Likewise  that  Flandre,  dis- 
armed by  Pallas  Athene,  says  openly,  it  will  not  fight  with 
citizens  ;  and  for  token  of  peace,  has  exchanged  cartridges 
with  the  Versaillese. 

Sansculottism  is  now  among  mere  friends  ;  and  can  'circu- 
late freely  ; '  indignant  at  Bodyguards  ;— complaining  also  con- 
siderably of  hunger. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

THE     EQUAL    DIET. 

But  why  lingers  Mounier  ;  retvums  not  with  his  Deputation  ? 
It  is  six,  it  is  seven  o'clock  ;  and  still  no  Mounier,  no  Accept- 
ance pure  and  simple. 

And,  behold,  the  di'ippiug  Menads,  not  now  in  deputation 
but  in  mass,  have  penetrated  into  the  Assembly  :  to  the  shame- 
fullest  interruption  of  public  speaking  and  order  of  the  day. 
Neither  Maillard  nor  Vice-President  can  restrain  them,  except 
within  wide  limits  ;  not  even,  except  for  minutes,  can  the 
lion-voice  of  Mirabeau,  though  they  applaud  it :  but  ever  and 
anon  they  break  in  upon  the  regeneration  of  France  with  cries 
of:  "Bread;  not  so  much  discoursing  !  Uu  pain;  pas  laid 
"de  longs  discours!  "—So  insensible  were  these  poor  creatures 
to  bursts  of  parUamcntary  eloquence ! 

One  learns  also  that  the  royal  Carriages  are  getting  yoked, 
as  if  for  Metz.     Carriages,  royal  or  not,  have  verily  showed 
*  Weber  {ubi  supra). 


THE  EQUAL  DIET.  259 

ihemselves  at  the  back  Gates.  They  even  produced,  or  quoted, 
a  written  order  from  our  Versailles  Municipality, — which  ia 
a  Monarchic,  not  a  Democratic  one.  HoweA^er,  Versailles 
Patrols  drove  them  in  again  ;  as  the  vigilant  Lecoiutre  had 
strictly  charged  them  to  do. 

A  busy  man,  truly,  is  Major  Lecointre,  in  these  hours.  For 
Colonel  d'Estaing  loiters  invisible  in  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf ;  in- 
visible, or  still  more  questionably  visible  for  instants :  then 
also  a  too  loyal  Municipality  requires  supervision  :  no  order, 
civil  or  military,  taken  about  any  of  these  thousand  things ! 
Lecointre  is  at  the  Versailles  Townhall  :  he  is  at  the  Grate  of 
the  Grand  Court ;  communing  with  Swiss  and  Bodyguards. 
He  is  in  the  ranks  of  Flandre  ;  he  is  here,  he  is  there  :  studi- 
ous to  prevent  bloodshed ;  to  prevent  the  Eoyal  Family  from 
flying  to  Metz  ;  the  Menads  from  plundering  Versailles. 

At  the  fall  of  night,  we  behold  him  advance  to  those  armed 
groups  of  Saint-Autoine,  hovering  ail-too  gi-im  near  the  Salle 
des  Menus.  They  receive  him  in  a  half-circle  ;  twelve  speakers 
behind  cannons  with  lighted  torches  in  hand,  the  cannon- 
mouths  towards  Lecoiutre  :  a  picture  for  Salvator  !  He  asks, 
in  temperate  but  courageous  language  :  What  they,  by  this 
their  journey  to  Versailles,  do  specially  want?  The  twelve 
speakers  reply,  in  few  words  inclusive  of  much  :  "  Bread,  and 
the  end  of  these  brabbles,  Bupain  et  la  fin  des  of  aires."  When 
the  affaires  will  end,  no  Major  Lecointre,  nor  no  mortal,  can 
say  ;  but  as  to  bread,  he  inquires.  How  many  are  3'ou  ? — 
learns  that  they  are  six  hundred,  that  a  loaf  each  will  suffice  ; 
and  rides  off  to  the  Municipality  to  get  six  hundred  loaves. 

Which  loaves,  however,  a  Municipality  of  Monarchic  tem- 
per will  not  give.  It  vdU.  give  two  tons  of  rice  rather, — could 
you  but  know  whether  it  should  be  boiled  or  raw.  Nay, 
Avhen  this  too  is  accepted,  the  Municipals  have  disaj^peared  ; 
—ducked  under,  as  the  Six-and-Twenty  Long-gowned  of 
Paris  did  ;  and,  leaving  not  the  smallest  vestige  of  rice,  in  the 
boiled  or  raw  state,  they  there  vanish  from  History  ! 

Rice  comes  not ;  one's  hope  of  food  is  balked,  even  one's  hope 
of  vengeance  :  is  not  IM.  de  Moucheton,  of  the  Scotch  Com- 
pany as  we  said,  deceitfully  smuggled  off?    Failing  all  which, 


260  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

behold  only  M.  de  Mouclieton's  slain  warhorsej  Ij'ing  on  the 
Esplanade  there  !  Saint-Antoiue,  balked,  esurient,  pounces 
on  the  slain  warhorse  ;  flays  it ;  roasts  it,  Avith  such  fuel,  of 
paHng,  gates,  portable  timber  as  can  be  come  at, — not  with- 
out shouting :  and,  after  the  manner  of  ancient  Greek  He- 
roes, then  lift<id  their  hands  to  the  daintily  readied  repast ;  such 
as  it  might  be.*  Other  Rascality  prowls  discursive  ;  seeking 
what  it  may  devour.  Flandre  will  retire  to  its  barracks ; 
Lecointre  also  Avith  his  Versaillese, — all  but  the  vigilant  Pa- 
trols, charged  to  be  doubly  vigilant. 

So  sink  the  shadows  of  night,  blustering,  rainy  ;  and  all 
paths  grow  dark.  Strangest  Night  ever  seen  in  these  re- 
gions,— perhaps  since  the  Bartholomew  Night,  when  Ver- 
sailles, as  Bassompierre  WTites  of  if,  was  a  chttif  chateau.  O 
for  the  L}Te  of  some  Orpheus,  to  constrain,  with  touch  of 
melodious  strings  these  mad  masses  into  Order  !  For  here 
all  seems  fallen  asunder,  in  wide-yawning  dislocation.  The 
highest,  as  in  doAvn-rushing  of  a  World,  is  come  in  contact 
Avith  the  lowest :  the  Rascality  of  France  beleaguering  the 
Royalty  of  France  ;  '  ironshod  batons  '  lifted  round  the  dia- 
dem, not  to  guard  it !  With  denunciations  of  bloodthirsty 
An ti  national  Bodyguards,  are  heard  dark  groAA-lings  against 
the  Queenly  Name. 

The  Court  sits  tremulous,  powerless  ;  varies  with  the  vaiy- 
ing  temper  of  the  Esplanade,  Avith  the  varying  color  of  the 
rumours  from  Paris.  Thick-coming  rumours  ;  noAV  of  peace, 
now  of  AA'ar.  Necker  and  all  the  Ministers  consult ;  Avith  a 
blank  issue.  Tlie  QEil-de-Boeuf  is  one  tempest  of  whispers  : 
— We  will  fly  to  Metz  ;  we  Avill  not  fly.  The  royal  Carriages 
again  attempt  egress  ; — though  for  trial  merely  ;  they  are 
again  di'iven  in  by  Lecointre's  Patrols.  In  six  hours  nothing 
has  been  resolved  on  :  not  even  the  Acceptance  pure  and 
simple. 

In  six  hours  ?  Alas,  he  who,  in  such  circumstances,  can- 
not resolve  in  six  minutes,  may  give  up  the  entei-prise  :  him 
Fate  has  already  resolved  for.  And  Menadism,  meanAA'hile, 
and  Sansculottism  takes  counsel  with  the  National  Assembly  ; 
*  Weber  ;  Deux  Amis,  &c. 


TUE  EQUAL   DIET.  2GI 

gi-ows  more  and  more  tumultuous  there.  Mounier  returns 
not ;  Authority  nowhere  shows  itself  :  the  Authority  of  France 
lies  for  the  present,  with  Lecointre  and  Usher  Maillartl. — 
This  then  is  the  abomination  of  desolation,  come  suddenly, 
though  long  foreshadowed  as  inevitable  !  For,  to  be  blind,  all 
things  are  sudden.  Misery  which,  through  long  ages,  had  no 
spokesman,  no  helper,  will  now  be  its  own  helper  and  speak 
for  itself.  The  dialect,  one  of  the  rudest,  is,  what  it  could 
be,  this. 

At  eight  o'clock  there  returns  to  our  Assembly  not  the  Dep- 
utation ;  but  Doctor  Guillotin  announcing  that  it  will  return  ; 
also  that  there  is  hope  of  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simj)le. 
He  himself  has  brought  a  Koyal  Letter,  authorising  and  com- 
manding the  freest  '  circulation  of  grains.'  Wliich  Koyal  Let- 
ter Menadism  with  its  whole  heart  applauds.  Conformably 
to  which  the  Assembly  forthwith  passes  a  Decree  ;  also  re- 
ceived with  rapturous  Menadic  plaudits  : — Only  could  not  an 
august  Assembly  contrive  further  to  ^''  fix  the  price  of  bread 
"  at  eight  sous  the  half-quartern  ;  butchers '-meat  at  six  sous 
"the  pound  ;"  which  seem  fair  rates?  Such  motion  do  'a 
multitude  of  men  and  women,'  irrepressible  by  Usher  Mail- 
lard,  now  make  ;  does  an  august  Assembly  hear  made.  Usher 
Maillard  himself  is  not  always  perfectly  measured  in  speech  ; 
but  if  rebuked,  he  can  justly  excuse  himself  by  the  peculiarity 
of  the  circumstances.* 

But  finally,  this  Decree  well  passed,  and  the  disorder  con- 
tinuing ;  and  Members  melting  away,  and  no  President  Mou- 
nier returning, — what  can  the  Vice-President  do  but  also  melt 
away  ?  The  Assembly  melts,  under  such  pressure,  into  de- 
liquium  :  or,  as  it  is  officially  called,  adjourns.  Maillard  is 
despatched  to  Paris,  with  the  '  Decree  concerning  Grains  '  in 
his  pocket  ;  he  and  some  women,  in  carriages  belonging  to 
the  King.  Thitherward  slim  Louison  Chabray  has  ah-eady 
set  forth,  with  that  '  written  answer,'  which  the  Twelve  She- 
deputies  returned  in  to  seek.  Slim  sylph,  she  has  set  forth, 
through  the  black  muddy  country  ;  she  has  much  to  tell,  her 
poor  nerves  so  flurried  ;  and  travels,  as  indeed  to-day  on  this 
*  Mouiteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  105.). 


2  12  THE  INSUnRKCTION  OF  WOMEN. 

ro.i'l  all  persons  do,  with  extreme  slowness.  President  Mou. 
nier  has  not  come,  nor  the  Acceptance  jjure  and  simjDie ; 
though  six  hours  with  their  events  have  come  ;  though  coui-ier 
on  courier  reports  that  Lafayette  is  coming.  Coming,  with 
war  or  with  peace  ?  It  is  time  that  the  Chateau  also  should  de- 
termine on  one  thing  or  another ;  that  the  Chateau  also  should 
show  itself  aUve,  if  it  would  continue  living ! 

Victorious,  joyful  after  such  delay,  Mounier  does  arrive  at 
last,  and  the  hard-earned  Accej^tance  with  him  ;  which  now, 
alas,  is  of  small  value.  Fancy  Mounier's  surprise  to  find  his 
Senate,  whom  he  hoped  to  charm  by  the  Acceptance  pure  and 
simple,  —all  gone  ;  and  in  its  stead  a  Senate  of  Menads  !  For 
as  Erasmus's  Ape  mimicked,  say  with  wooden  splint,  Erasmus 
shaving,  so  do  these  Amazons  hold,  in  mock  majesty,  some 
confused  parody  of  National  Assembly.  They  make  motions  ; 
deliver  speeches  ;  pass  enactments  ;  j^roductive  at  least  of 
loud  laughter.  All  galleries  and  benches  are  filled  ;  a  Strong 
D.ime  of  the  Mai-ket  is  in  Mounier's  Chair.  Not  without  diffi- 
culty, Mounier,  by  aid  of  macers,  and  persuasive  speaking, 
makes  his  way  to  the  Female  President ;  the  Strong  Dame, 
before  abdicating,  signifies  that,  for  one  thing,  she  and  indeed 
her  whole  senate  male  and  Female  (for  what  was  one  roasted 
warhorse  among  so  many  ?)  are  suffering  very  considerably 
from  hunger. 

Experienced  Mounier,  in  these  circumstances,  takes  a  two- 
fold resolution  :  To  reconvoke  his  Assembly  Members  by 
sound  of  drum  ;  also  to  procure  a  supply  of  food.  Swift 
messengers  fly,  to  all  bakers,  cooks,  pastrycooks,  vintners, 
restorers  ;  drums  beat,  accompanied  with  shrill  vocal  proc- 
lamation, through  all  streets.  They  come :  the  Assembly 
Members  come  ;  what  is  still  better,  the  in'ovisions  come.  Oa 
tray  and  barrow  come  these  latter ;  loaves,  wine,  gi'eat  store 
of  sausages.  The  nourishing  baskets  circulate  harmoniously 
along  the  benches  ;  nor,  according  to  the  Father  of  Epics, 
did  any  soul  lack  a  fair  share  of  victual  (SuItoj  €!:(rr]<;,  an  equal 
diet),  highly  desirable  at  the  moment.* 

Gradually  some  hundred  or  so  of  Assembly  Members  get 
*  Deux  Amis,  iii.  208. 


LAFA  YETTE.  263 

edged  in,  Mencadism  making  way  a  little,  round  Mounier's 
Cliau- ;  listen  to  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple  ;  and  begm, 
what  is  the  order  of  the  night,  'discussion  of  the  Penal  Code.' 
All  benches  are  crowded  ;  in  the  dusky  galleries,  duskier  with 
unwashed  heads,  is  a  strange  'coruscation,'— of  impromptu 
bni-hooks.*  It  is  exactly  five  months  this  day  since  these  same 
gaUeries  were  fiUed  with  high-plumed  jewelled  Beauty,  rain- 
ing bright  influences  ;  and  now  ?  To  such  length  have  we 
got  in  regenerating  France.  Methinks  the  travail-throes  are 
of  the  sharpest ! — Menadism  will  not  be  restrained  from  occa- 
sional remarks  ;  asks,  "What  is  the  use  of  Penal  Code?  The 
"  thing  we  want  is  Bread."  Mirabeau  turns  round  with  hon- 
voiced  rebuke  ;  Menadism  applauds  him  ;  but  recommences. 

Thus  they,  chewing  tough  sausages,  discussing  the  Penal 
Code,  make  night  hideous.  "What  the  issue  will  be  ?  Lafay- 
ette with  his  thirty  thousand  must  arrive  first :  him,  who  can- 
not now  be  distant,  all  men  expect,  as  the  messenger  of 
Destiny. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Tow  Aims  midnight  lights  flare  on  the  hill ;  Lafayette's  lights  ! 
The  roll  of  his  drums  comes  up  the  Avenue  de  Versailles. 
With  peace,  or  with  war?  Patience,  Fi-iends  !  With  neither. 
Lafayette  is  come,  but  not  yet  the  catastrophe. 

He  has  halted  and  harangued  so  often,  on  the  march ; 
spent  nine  hours  on  four  leagues  of  road.  At  Montreuil, 
close  on  Versailles,  the  whole  host  had  to  pause  ;  and,  v/itli 
uplifted  right  hand,  in  the  murk  of  Night,  to  these  pouring 
skies,  swear  solemnly  to  respect  the  King's  dwelling  ;  to  be 
faithful  to  King  and  National  Assembly.  Rage  is  driven 
down  out  of  sight,  by  the  laggard  march  ;  the  thirst  of  ven- 
geance slaked  in  weariness  and  soaking  clothes.  Flandre  is 
again  drawn  out  under  arms : — but  Flandre,  grown  so  patri- 
otic, now  needs  no  'exterminating.'  The  wayworn  Battalions 
*  Courier  de  Provence  (Mirabeau's  Newspaper',  Xo.  50,  p.  19. 


204  THE  lysURRECTlOX   OF  WOMEN. 

halt  in  the  Avenue  :  ILey  liave,  for  the  present,  no  wish  so 
pressing  as  that  of  shelter  and  rest. 

Anxious  sits  President  Mounier;  anxious  the  Chateau. 
There  is  a  message  coming  from  the  Chateau,  that  M.  Mounier 
would  please  toretui'n  thither  with  a  fresh  Deputation,  swiftly  ; 
and  so  at  least  unite  our  two  anxieties.  Anxious  jMouuier 
does  of  himself  send,  meanwhile,  to  apprise  the  General  that 
his  Majesty  has  been  so  gracious  as  to  grant  us  the  Acceptance 
pure  and  simple.  The  General,  with  a  small  advance  column, 
makes  answer  in  passing  ;  speahs  vaguely  some  smooth  words 
to  the  National  President, — glances,  only  with  the  eye,  at 
that  so  mixtiform  National  Assembly  ;  then  fares  forward 
towards  the  Chateau.  There  are  with  him  two  Paris  Munici- 
pals ;  they  were  chosen  from  the  Three  Hundred  for  that 
errand.  He  gets  admittance  through  the  locked  and  pad- 
locked Grates,  through  sentries  and  ushers,  to  the  Royal 
HaUs. 

The  Court,  male  and  female,  crowd  on  his  passage,  to  read 
their  doom  on  his  face ;  which  exhibits,  say  Historians,  a 
mixture  '  of  sorrow,  of  fervour  and  valour,'  singular  to  behold.* 
The  King,  with  Monsieur,  with  Ministers  and  Marshals,  is 
waiting  to  receive  him  :  He  "is  come,"'  in  highflown  chival- 
rous way,  "to  offer  his  head  for  the  safety  of  his  Majesty's." 
The  two  Municipals  state  the  wish  of  Paris:  fo'ar  things,  of 
quite  pacific  tenor.  First,  that  the  honour  of  Guarding  his 
sacred  person  be  conferred  on  patriot  National  Guards  ; — 
say,  the  Centre  Grenadiers,  who  as  Gardes  Franc^aises  were 
wont  to  have  that  privilege.  Second,  that-  provisions  be  got, 
if  possible.  Third,  that  the  Prisons,  all  crowded  Avith  politi- 
cal delinquents,  may  have  judges  sent  them.  Fourth,  that  it 
icotdd  please  his  Majesty  to  come  and  live  in  Paris.  To  all 
which  four  wishes,  except  the  fourth,  his  Majesty  answers 
readily.  Yes  ;  or,  indeed  may  almost  say  that  he  has  already 
answered  it.  To  the  fourth  he  can  answer  only,  Yes  or  No ; 
would  so  gladly  answer,  Yes  and  No  ! — But,  in  any  case,  are 
not   their   dispositions,   thank  Heaven,    so   entirely   pacific? 

*  Mcmoire  de  M.  le  Comte  de  Lally-Tolleiidal  (Janvier,  1790),  pp. 
101-165. 


LAFAYETTE.  205 

There  is  time  for  deliberation.  The  brunt  of  the  danger 
seems  j)ast ! 

Lafayette  and  d'Estaing  settle  the  watches  ;  Centre  Grena- 
diers are  to  take  the  Guard-room  they  of  old  occupied  as 
Gai'des  Francaises  ; — for  indeed  the  Gardes-du-Corps,  its  late 
ill-advised  occupants,  are  gone  mostly  to  Eambouillet.  That 
is  the  order  of  this  night ;  sufficient  for  the  night  is  the  evil 
thereof.  Whereupon  Lafayette  and  the  two  Municipals,  with 
highflown  chivalry,  take  their  leave. 

So  brief  has  the  interview  been,  Mounier  and  his  Deputa- 
tion were  not  yet  got  up.  So  brief  and  satisfactory.  A  stone 
is  rolled  from  every  heart.  The  fair  Palace  Dames  publicly 
declare  that  this  Lafayette,  detestable  though  he  be,  is  their 
saviour  for  once.  Even  the  ancient  vinaigrous  Tantes  admit 
it ;  the  King's  Aunts,  ancient  Graille  and  Sisterhood,  known 
to  us  of  old.  Queen  Marie-Antoinette  has  been  heard  often 
say  the  like.  She  alone,  among  all  women  and  all  men,  wore 
a  face  of  courage,  of  lofty  calmness  and  resolve,  this  day. 
She  alone  saw  clearly  what  she  meant  to  do ;  and  Theresa's 
Daughter  dares  do  what  she  means,  were  all  France  threaten- 
ing her  :  abide  where  her  children  are,  Avhere  her  husband  is. 

Towards  three  in  the  morning  all  things  are  settled  :  the 
watches  set,  the  Centre  Grenadiers  put  into  their  old  Guard- 
room, and  harangued  ;  the  Swiss,  and  few  remaining  Body- 
guai'ds  hai'angued.  The  wayworn  Paris  Battalions,  consigned 
to  '  the  hospitality  of  Versailles,'  lie  dormant  in  spare-beds, 
spare  barracks,  coffeehouses,  empty  churches.  A  troop  of 
them,  on  their  way  to  the  Church  of  Saint-Louis,  awoke  poor 
Weber,  dreaming  troublous  in  the  Rue  Sartory.  Weber  has 
had  his  waistcoat-pocket  full  of  balls  all  day  ;  '  two  hundred 
balls,  and  two  pears  of  powder!  For  waistcoats  were*  waist- 
coats then,  and  had  flaps  down  to  mid-thigh.  So  many  balls 
he  has  had  all  day  ;  but  no  opportunity  of  using  them  :  he 
turns  over  now,  execrating  disloyal  bandits  ;  sweai's  a  prayer 
or  two,  and  straight  to  sleep  again. 

Finally  the  National  Assembly  is  harangued  ;  which  there- 
upon, on   motion  of  Mirabeau,  discontinues  the  Penal  C-^de, 


2GG  Tin:  INSURIIECTIOX  OF  WOMIJK 

and  dismisses  for  this  night.  Menadism,  Sausculottism  lia3 
cowered  into  guardhouses,  barracks  of  Flandre,  to  the  hght  of 
cheerful  fire  ;  faihng  that,  to  churches,  officehouses,  sentry- 
boxes,  wheresoever  wretchedness  can  find  a  lair.  The  troub- 
lous Day  has  brawled  itself  to  rest :  no  lives  yet  lost  but  that 
of  one  war-horse.  Insurrectionary  Chaos  lies  slumbering 
round  the  Palace,  like  Ocean  round  a  Diving-Bell, — no  cre\ice 
yet  disclosing  itself. 

Deep  sleep  has  fallen  promiscuously  on  the  high  and  on 
the  low  ;  suspending  most  things,  even  w^-ath  and  famine. 
Darkness  covers  the  Earth.  But,  far  on  the  North-east,  Paiis 
flings  up  her  great  yellow  gleam  ;  far  into  the  wet  black  Night. 
For  all  is  illuminated  there,  as  in  the  old  Jaly  Nights  ;  the 
streets  deserted,  for  alarm  of  war  ;  the  Municipals  all  wake- 
ful ;  Patrols  hailing,  with  their  hoarse  Wko-goes.  There,  as 
we  discover,  our  poor  slim  Louison  Chabray,  her  poor  nerves 
all  fluttered,  is  an-iving  about  this  very  hour.  There  Usher 
Maillard  will  arrive,  about  an  hour  hence,  '  towards  four  in  the 
morning.'  They  report,  successively,  to  a  wakeful  HiUel-de- 
Ville,  what  comfort  they  can  ;  which  again,  with  early  davv-n, 
large  comfortable  Placards  shall  impart  to  all  men. 

Lafayette,  in  the  Hotel  de  Noailles,  not  far  from  the 
Chateau,  having  now  finished  haranguing,  sits  with  his  Ofiicers 
consulting  :  at  five  o'clock  the  unanimous  best  counsel  is,  that 
a  man  so  tost  and  toiled  for  twenty-four  hours  and  inore, 
fling  himself  on  a  bed,  and  seek  some  rest. 

Thus,  then,  has  ended  the  First  Act  of  the  Insurrection  of 
Women.  How  it  will  turn  on  the  morrow  ?  The  morrow,  as 
always,  is  with  the  Fates  !  But  his  Majesty,  one  may  hope, 
will  consent  to  come  honourably  to  Paris  ;  at  all  events,  he 
can  visit  Paris.  Anti-national  Bodyguards,  here  and  else- 
where, must  take  the  National  Oath  ;  make  reparation  to  the 
Tricolor  ;  Flandre  will  swear.  There  may  be  much  swearing ; 
much  public  speaking  there  will  infallibly  be  :  and  so,  with 
harangues  and  vows,  may  the  matter  in  some  handsome  way, 
wind  itself  up. 

Or,   alas,    may  it  not  be  all  otherwise,  u/jhandsome  :  the 


THE   GRAND   EXrilIES.  2G7 

consent  not  honourable,  but  extorted,  ignominious  ?  Bound- 
less Chaos  of  Insurrection  presses  slumbering  round  the 
PiJace,  like  Ocean  round  a  Diviug-Bell  ;  and  may  penetrate 
at  any  crevice.  Let  but  that  accumulated  insurrectionary 
mass  find  entrance !  Like  the  infinite  iuburst  of  water  ;  or 
say  rather,  of  inflammable,  self-igniting  fluid  ;  for  example, 
'  turpentine-and-phosphorus  oil,' — fluid  known  to  Sj^inoU 
Santerre ! 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE    GEAND    ENTRIES. 

The  dull  dawn  of  a  new  morning,  drizzly  and  chill,  had  but 
broken  over  Versailles,  when  it  pleased  Destiny  that  a  Body- 
guard should  look  out  of  window,  on  the  right  wing  of  the 
Chateau,  to  see  what  prospect  there  was  in  Heaven  and  in 
Eai'th.  Rascality  male  and  female  is  prowling  in  view  of  him. 
His  fasting  stomach  is,  with  good  cause,  sour  ;  he  perhaps 
cannot  forbear  a  passing  malison  on  them  ;  least  of  all  can  he 
forbear  answering  such. 

Ill  words  breed  worse  :  till  the  woi-st  word  come  ;  and  then 
the  ill  deed.  Did  the  maledicent  Bodyguai-d,  getting  (as  was 
too  inevitable)  better  malediction  than  he  gave,  load  his  mus- 
ketoon,  and  threaten  to  fire  ;  nay,  actually  fire  ?  Were  wise 
wdio  wist !  It  stands  asserted  ;  to  us  not  credibly.  But  be 
this  as  it  may,  menaced  Rascality,  in  whinnying  scorn,  is 
shaking  at  all  Grates  :  the  fastening  of  one  (some  write,  it  was 
a  chain  merely)  gives  way  ;  RascaUty  is  in  the  Grand  Court, 
whinnying  louder  still. 

The  maledicent  Bodyguard,  more  Bodyguards  than  he,  do 
now  give  fire ;  a  man's  arm  is  shattered.  Lecointre  will 
depose  *  that  '  the  Sieur  Cai'dine,  a  National  Guard  without 
arms,  was  stabbed.'  But  see,  sure  enough,  poor  Jerome 
I'Heritier,  an  unar-med  National  Guard  he  too,  '  cabinet-maker, 
a  saddler's  son,  of  Paris,'  with  the  down  of  youthhood  still  on 
his  chin— he  reels  death -stricken  ;  rushes  to  the  pavement, 
scattering  it  with  his  blood  and  brains ! — Alleleu !  Wilder 
*  Deposition  de  Lecointre  (in  Hist.  Pari.  id.  111-115). 


2GS  THE  INSURRECTIOy  OF  WOMEX. 

thau  Irish  wakes,  rises  the  howl :  of  pity  ;  of  infinite  revenga 
In  few  moments,  the  Grate  of  the  inner  and  inmost  Court, 
which  they  name  Court  of  Marble,  this  too  is  forced,  or  sur- 
prised, and  bursts  oj^en  :  the  Court  of  Marble  too  is  over- 
flowed :  up  the  Grand  Staircase,  up  all  stairs  and  entrances 
rushes  the  living  Deluge  !  Deshuttes  and  Varigny,  the  two 
S3ntry  Bodyguards,  are  trodden  down,  are  massacred  with  a 
hundred  pikes.  "Women  snatch  theii-  cutlasses,  or  any  weapon, 
and  storm-in  Menadic  : — other  women  lift  the  coi-pse  of  shot 
Jerome  ;  lay  it  down  on  the  marble  steps  ;  there  shall  the 
livid  face  and  smashed  head,  dumb  forevei*,  speak. 

Wo  now  to  all  Bo  lyguirds,  mercy  is  none  for  them  !  Mio- 
mandre  de  Sainte-M  u-ie  pleads  with  soft  words  on  the  Grand 
Stau'case,  '  descending  four  steps  : ' — to  the  roaring  tornado. 
His  comrades  snatch  him  up,  by  the  skirts  and  belts  ;  literally 
from  the  jaws  of  Destruction  ;  and  slam  to  then*  Door.  This 
also  will  stand  few  instants  ;  the  panels  shivering  in,  hke  pot- 
sherds. Barricading  serves  not :  fly  fast,  ye  Bodyguards : 
rabid  Insurrection,  like  the  Hellhound  Chase,  uproaiiug  at 
your  heels ! 

The  terrorsti-uck  Bodyguards  fly,  bolting  and  Ban-icading  ; 
it  follows.  Whitherward  ?  Through  hall  on  hall :  wo,  now  ! 
towards  the  Queen's  Suite  of  Rooms,  in  the  furthest  room  of 
which  the  Queen  is  now  asleep.  Five  sentinels  rush  through 
that  long  Suite  ;  they  are  in  the  Anteroom  knocking  loud : 
"  Save  the  Queen  ! "  Trembling  women  fall  at  then-  feet  with 
tears  ;  are  answered  :  "  Ye.s,  we  will  die  ;  save  ye  the  Queen ! " 

Tremble  not,  women,  but  haste :  for,  lo,  another  voice 
shouts  far  through  the  outermost  door,  "  Save  the  Queen  !  " 
and  the  door  is  shut.  It  is  brave  Miomandre's  voice  that 
shouts  this  second  warning.  He  has  stormed  across  immi- 
nent death  to  do  it ;  fronts  imminent  death,  having  done  it. 
Brave  Tardivet  du  Repaire,  bent  on  the  same  desperate  ser- 
vice, was  borne  down  with  pikes;  his  comrades  hardly  snatched 
him  in  again  alive.  Miomandre  and  Tai-divet :  let  the  names 
of  these  two  Bodyguards,  as  the  names  of  brave  men  should, 
live  long. 

Trembling  Maids  of  Honour,  one  of  whom  from  afar  caught 


THE  GRAND  ENTRIES.  269 

glimpse  of  Miomaudre,  as  well  as  heard  him,  hastily  wraj) 
the  Queen  ;  not  in  robes  of  state.  She  Hies  for  her  life,  across 
the  OEil-de-BcEuf ;  against  the  main  door  of  which  too  insur- 
rection batters.  She  is  in  the  King's  Apartment,  in  the  King's 
arms  ;  she  clasps  her  children  amid  a  faithful  few.  The  Im- 
perial hearted  bursts  into  mother's  tears  :  "  O  my  friends, 
'*  save  me  and  my  childi^en,  0  mes  amis,  sauvez  moi  et  vies 
"evfans!"  The  battering  of  Insurrectionary  axes  clang 
audible  across  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf.     What  an  hour  ! 


Yes,  Friends  :  a  hideous  fearful  hour  ;  shameful  alike  to 
Governed  and  Governor;  wherein  Governed  and  Governor 
ignominiously  testify  that  their  relation  is  at  an  end.  Rage, 
which  had  brewed  itself  in  twenty -thousand  hearts,  for  the 
last  four  and  twenty  hours,  has  taken  Jire  :  Jerome's  brained 
corpse  lies  there  as  live-coal.  It  is,  as  we  said,  the  infinite 
Element  bursting  in  ;  wild-sui'ging  through  all  coi'ridors  and 
conduits. 

Meanwhile,  the  poor  Bodyguards  have  got  hunted  mostly 
into  the  GEil  de  Boeuf.  They  may  die  there,  at  the  King's 
threshold  ;  they  can  do  little  to  defend  it.  They  are  heaping 
tabourets  (stools  of  honour),  benches  and  all  movables,  against 
the  door  ;  at  which  the  axe  of  Insuri-ection  thunders.  —But  did 
brave  Miomandre  perish,  then,  at  the  Queen's  outer  door? 
No,  he  was  fractured,  slashed,  lacerated,  left  for  dead  ;  he  has 
nevertheless  crawled  hither  ;  and  shall  live,  honoured  of  loyal 
France.  Remark  also,  in  flat  contradiction  to  much  which 
has  been  said  and  sung,  that  Insurrection  did  not  burst  that 
door  he  had  defended  ;  but  hurried  elsewhither,  seeking  new 
Bodyguards.* 

Poor  Bodyguards,  with  their  Thyestes  Opera-Repast !  Well 
for  them,  that  Insurrection  has  only  pikes  and  axes  ;  no  right 
sieging  tools !  It  shakes  and  thunders.  Must  they  all 
perish  miserably,  and  Royalty  with  them  ?  Deshuttes  and 
Varigny,  massacred  at  the  first  inbreak,  have  been  beheaded 
in  the  Marble  Court :  a  sacrifice  to  Jerome's  manes  :  Jourdan 

*  Campan,  ii.  75-87. 


270  TUE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

with  the  tile-beard  did  that  duty  willingly  ;  and  asked,  B 
there  were  no  more  ?  Another  captive  they  are  leading-  round 
the  corpse,  with  howl-chantiugs  :  may  not  Jourdan  a^-ain  tuck 
up  his  sleeves  ? 

And  louder  and  louder  rages  Insurrection  within,  plunder- 
ing if  it  cannot  kill ;  louder  and  louder  it  thiinders  at  the 

(Eil-de-Boeuf  :  what  can  now  hinder  its  bursting  in  ? On  a 

sudden  it  ceases  ;  the  battering  has  ceased  !  Wild  rushino- : 
the  cries  grow  fainter;  there  is  silence,  or  the  tramp  of 
regular  steps  ;  then  a  friendly  knocking :  "  We  are  the  Cen- 
tre Grenadiers,  old  Gardes  Francaises :  Open  to  us.  Mes- 
sieurs of  the  Garde-du-Corps ;  we  have  not  forgotten  how 
you  saved  us  at  Fontenoy!"*  The  door  is  opened;  enter 
Captain  Gondran  and  the  Centre  Grenadiers:  there  are 
military  embracings  ;  there  is  sudden  deliverance  from  death 
into  life. 

Strange  Sons  of  Adam!  It  was  to  'exterminate'  these 
Gardes-du-Corps  that  the  Centre  Grenadiers  left  home  :  and 
now  they  have  rushed  to  save  them  from  extermination.  The 
memory  of  common  peril,  of  old  help,  melts  the  rough  heart ; 
bosom  is  clasped  to  bosom,  not  in  war.  The  King  shows 
himself,  one  moment,  through  the  door  of  his  Apartment, 
with  :  "Do  not  hurt  my  Guards  !  " — "  Soyom  frtres,  Let  us 
be  brothers  !  "  cries  Captain  Gondran  ;  and  again  dashes  oft* 
with  levelled  bayonets,  to  sweep  the  Palace  clear. 

Now  too  Lafayette,  suddenly  roused,  not  from  sleep  (for 
his  eyes  had  not  yei  closed),  arrives  ;  with  passionate  popular 
eloquence,  with  prompt  military  word  of  command.  National 
Guards,  suddenly  roused,  by  sound  of  trumpet  and  alarm- 
drum,  arc  all  arriving.  The  death-melly  ceases  :  the  first  sky- 
lambent  blaze  of  Insun*ection  is  got  damped  down  ;  it  bm*ns 
now,  if  unextinguished,  yet  flameless,  as  charred  coals  do, 
and  not  inextinguishable.  The  King's  Ai:)artment8  are  safe. 
Ministers,  Officials,  and  even  some  loyal  National  Deputies  are 
assembling  round  their  Majesties.  The  consternation  will, 
with  sobs  and  confusion,  settle  down  gradually,  into  plan  and 
counsel,  better  or  worse. 

*  Toulongeon,  i.  144. 


THE  GRAND  ENTRIES.  271 

But  glance  now,  for  a  moment,  from  the  royal  windows  ! 
A  roaring  sea  of  human  heads,  inundating  both  Courts  ;  bil- 
lowing against  all  passages  :  Menadic  women ;  infuriated  men, 
mad  with  revenge,  with  love  of  mischief,  love  of  plunder ! 
Easrality  has  slipped  its  muzzle ;  and  now  bays,  three- 
throated  hke  the  Dog  of  Erebus.  Fourteen  Bodyguards  are 
wounded  ;  two  massacred,  and  as  we  saw,  beheaded  ;  Jourdan 
asking,  "  Was  it  worth  while  to  come  so  far  for  two  ?  "  Hap- 
less Deshuttes  and  Varigny !  Their  fate  surely  was  sad. 
Whirled  down  so  suddenly  to  the  abyss  ;  as  men  are,  sud- 
denly, by  the  wide  thunder  of  the  Mountain  Avalanche, 
awakened  not  by  lliem,  awakened  far  off  by  others !  When 
the  Chateau  Clock  last  struck,  they  two  were  pacing  languid, 
with  poised  musketoon  ;  anxious  mainly  that  the  next  hour 
would  strike.  It  has  struck  ;  to  them  inaudible.  Their  trunks 
lie  mangled  :  their  heads  parade,  '  on  pikes  twelve  feet  long,' 
through  the  streets  of  Versailles  ;  and  shall,  about  noon,  reach 
the  Barriers  of  Paris,— a  too  ghastly  contradiction  to  the 
lai-ge  comfortable  Placards  that  have  been  jjosted  there  ! 

The  other  captive  Bodyguard  is  still  circling  the  corpse  of 
Jerome,  amid  Indian  war- whooping  ;  bloody  Tilebeard,  with 
tucked  sleeves,  brandishing  his  bloody  axe  ;  when  Gondran 
and  the  Grenadiers  come  in  sight.  "Comrades,  will  you  see 
a  man  massacred  in  cold  blood?" — "  Off,  butchers  !  "  answer 
they  ;  and  the  poor  Bodyguard  is  free.  Busy  runs  Gondran, 
busy  run  Guards  and  Captains  ;  scouring  all  corridors ;  dis- 
persing Rascality  and  Robbery  :  sweeping  the  Palace  clear. 
The  mangled  carnage  is  removed ;  Jerome's  body  to  the 
Townhall,  for  inquest  :  the  fire  of  Insurrection  gets  damj^ed, 
more  and  more,  iuto  measurable,  manageable  heat. 

Transcendent  things  of  all  sorts,  as  in  the  general  outburst 
of  multitudinous  Passion,  are  huddled  together  ;  the  ludicrous, 
my,  the  ridiculous,  with  the  horrible.  Far  over  the  billowy 
sea  of  heads,  may  be  seen  Rascality,  caprioling  on  hox'ses  from 
the  Royal  Stud.  The  Spoilers  these  ;  for  Patriotism  is  al- 
ways infected  so,  with  a  proportion  of  mere  thieves  and 
scoundrels.  Gondran  snatched  their  pi-ey  from  them  in  the 
Chateau ;  whereupon  they  hurried  to  the  Stables,  and  took 


272  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

horse  there.  But  the  generous  Diomedes'  steeds,  according 
to  Weber,  disdamed  such  scoundrel-burden  ;  and,  flinging  up 
their  royal  heels,  did  soon  project  most  of  it,  in  parabolic 
curves,  to  a  distance,  amid  peals  of  laughter  ;  and  were  caught. 
Mounted  National  Guards  secured  the  rest. 

Now  too  is  witnessed  the  touching  last-flicker  of  Etiquette  ; 
which  sinks  not  here,  in  the  Cimmerian  World-wreckage,  with- 
out a  sign  ;  as  the  house-cricket  might  still  chii-p  in  the  peal- 
ing of  a  Trump  of  Doom.  "  Monsieur,"  said  some  Master  of 
Ceremonies  (one  hopes,  it  might  be  de  Breze),  as  Lafayette, 
in  these  fearful  moments,  was  rushing  towards  the  inner 
Royal  Apartments,  "  3Ionsieur,  le  Roy,  vons  accorde  les  grandes 
"■  entrees,  Monsieur,  the  King  grants  you  the  Grand  Entries," 
— not  findinff  it  convenient  to  refuse  them  !  * 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OM     VERSAILLEl 


However,  the  Paris  National  Guard,  wholly  under  arms, 
has  cleared  the  Palace,  and  even  occupies  the  nearer  external 
spaces  ;  extruding  miscellaneous  Patriotism,  for  most  part, 
into  the  Grand  Court,  or  even  into  the  Forecourt. 

The  Bodyguards,  you  can  observe,  have  now  of  a  verity 
'  hoisted  the  National  Cockade  : '  for  they  stej?  forward  to  the 
windows  or  balconies,  hat  aloft  in  hand,  on  each  hat  a  huge 
tricolor  ;  and  fling  over  their  bandoleers  in  sign  of  surrender  ; 
and  shout  Vive  la  Nation.  To  which  how  can  the  generous 
heart  respond  but  with,  Vive  le  Roi ;  vivent  les  Gardes-dii- 
Corps?  His  Majesty  himself  has  appeared  with  Lafayette  on 
the  balcony,  and  again  aj^pears  :  Vive  le  Roi,  greets  him  from 
all  throats  ;  but  also  from  some  one  throat  is  heard,  "  Le  Roi 
a  Paris,  The  King  to  Paris !  " 

Her  Majesty  too,  on  demand,  shows  herself,  though  there 

is  peril  in  it :  she  steps  out  on  the  balcony,  with  her  little  boy 

and  girl.     "  No  children.  Point  d'enfans  !  "  cry  the  voices.    She 

gently  pushes  back  her  children  ;  and  stands  alone,  her  hands 

*  Toulongcon,  i.  App.  120. 


FROM  VERSAILLES.  273 

serenely  crossed  on  her  breast :  "  sliould  I  die,"  she  bad  said, 
"I  will  do  it."  Sucb  serenity  of  beroism  has  its  effect.  Lafay- 
ette, with  ready  wit,  in  bis  bigbflown  cbivalrous  way,  takes 
that  fair  queenly  baud ;  and,  reverently  kneeling,  kisses  it : 
thereupon  the  people  do  sbout  Vice  la  Eeine.  Nevertheless, 
poor  Weber  '  saw '  (or  even  thought  he  saw  ;  for  hardly  the 
third  part  of  poor  Weber's  experiences,  in  such  hysterical 
days,  will  stand  scrutiny)  '  one  of  these  brigands  level  his 
musket  at  her  Majesty,' — with  or  without  intention  to  shoot ; 
for  another  of  the  brigands  '  angrily  struck  it  down.' 

So  that  all,  and  the  Queen  herself,  nay  the  very  Captain  of 
the  Bodyguards,  have  grown  National !  The  very  Captain  of 
the  Bodyguards  steps  out  now  with  Lafayette.  On  the  bat  of 
the  repentant  man  is  an  enormous  tricolor  ;  large  as  a  soup- 
plattei-,  or  sunflower  ;  visible  to  the  utmost  Forecourt.  He 
takes  the  National  Oath  with  a  loud  voice,  elevating  his  bat ; 
at  which  sight  all  the  army  raise  their  bonnets  on  their  baj'- 
onets,  with  shouts.  Sweet  is  reconcilement  to  the  heart  of 
man.  Lafayette  has  sworn  Flandre  ;  be  swears  the  remaining 
Bodyguards,  down  in  the  Marble  Court ;  the  people  clasp 
them  in  their  arms  : — O,  my  brothers,  why  would  ye  force  us 
to  slay  you?  Behold  there  is  joy  over  you  as  over  returniug 
prodigal  sons  ! — The  poor  Bodyguards,  now  National  and  tri- 
color, exchange  bonnets,  exchange  arms  ;  there  shall  be  peace 
and  fraternity.  And  still  "  Vice  le  Boi  ;  "  and  also  "  Le  Boi 
d  Paris,"  not  now  from  one  throat,  but  from  all  throats  as  one 
for  it  is  the  beai't's  wish  of  all  mortals. 

Yes,  TJie  King  to  Paris :  what  else  ?  Ministers  may  consult, 
and  National  Deputies  wag  their  beads  :  but  there  is  now  no 
other  possibility.  You  have  forced  him  to  go  willingly.  "  At 
one  o'clock  ! "  Lafayette  gives  audible  assurance  to  that  pur- 
pose ;  and  universal  Insurrection,  with  immeasurable  sbout, 
and  a  discharge  of  all  the  fire-arms,  clear  and  rusty,  gi'eat  and 
small,  that  it  has,  returns  him  acceptance.  What  a  sound  ; 
beard  for  leagues  :  a  doom-peal !— That  sound  too  rolls  away  ; 
into  the  Silence  of  Ages.  And  the  Chateau  of  Versailles 
stands  ever  since  vacant,  hushed-still ;  its  spacious  Courts 
Vol.  I.— 18 


274  THE  INtiURUECTIOy  OF  WOMEX. 

gi'assgrowii,  responsive  to  the  Loe  of  tbe  weeder.  Times  and 
generations  roll  on,  in  their  confused  Gulf-current ;  and  build- 
ings like  builders  have  their  destiny. 

Till  one  o'clock,  then,  there  will  be  three  parties  :  National 
Assembly,  National  Rascality,  National  Royalty,  all  busy 
enough.  Rascality  rejoices  ;  women  trim  themselves  with  tri- 
color. Nay  motherly  Paris  has  sent  her  Avengers  sufficient 
'  cartloads  of  loaves  ; '  which  are  shouted  over,  which  are 
gratefully  consumed.  The  Avengers,  in  return,  are  searching 
for  grain-stores ;  loading  them  in  fifty  wagons  ;  that  so  a  Na- 
tional King,  probable  harbinger  of  all  blessings,  may  be  the 
evident  bringer  of  plenty,  for  one. 

And  thus  has  Sansculottism  made  prisoner  its  King  ;  revok- 
ing his  parole.  The  Monarchy  has  fallen  ;  and  not  so  much 
as  honorably  ;  no,  ignominiously  ;  with  struggle,  indeed,  oft^ 
repeated  ;  but  then  with  unwise  struggle  ;  wasting  its  strength 
in  fits  and  parox^'sms  ;  at  everj"^  new  paroxysm,  foiled  more 
pitifully  thaii  before.  Thus  Broglie's  whiif  of  grapeshot,  which 
might  have  been  something,  has  dwindled  to  the  pot- valour 
of  an  Opera  Repast,  and  0  Richard,  0  mon  Eoi.  Which  again 
we  shall  see  dwindle  to  a  Favras'  Conspii-acy,  a  thing  to  be 
settled  by  the  hanging  of  one  Chevalier. 

Poor  Monarchy !  But  what  save  foulest  defeat  can  await 
that  man,  who  wills,  and  yet  wills  not  ?  Aj^parently  the  King 
either  has  a  right,  assertible  as  such  to  the  death,  before  God 
and  man  ;  or  else  he  has  no  right.  Apparently,  the  one  or  the 
other ;  could  he  but  know  which !  May  Heaven  pity  him  ! 
Were  Louis  wise  he  would  this  day  abdicate. — Is  it  not 
strange  so  few  Kings  abdicate  ;  and  none  yet  heard  of  has 
been  known  to  commit  suicide  ?  Fritz  the  First,  of  Prussia, 
alone  tried  it ;  and  they  cut  the  rope. 

As  for  the  National  Assembly,  which  decrees  this  morning 
that  '  it  is  inseparable  from  his  Majesty,'  and  will  follow  him 
to  Paris,  there  may  one  thing  be  noted  :  its  extreme  want  of 
bodily  health.  After  the  Fourteenth  of  July  there  was  a  cer- 
tain sickliness  observable  among  honourable  jMcmbers :  so 
many  demanding  passpoi'ts,  on  account  of  infirm  health.  But 
now,  for  these  following  days,  there  is  a  perfect  murrain ; 


FIW:J  Vf'JnSAILLES.  2io 

President  Mounier,  Lilly  TulleuJal,  Clermont  Tonnere,  and 
all  Constitutional  T\vo-Ch:imber  Ro^-alists  needing  change  of 
air ;  as  most  No-Chamber  Ro^-alists  had  formerly  done. 

For,  in  truth,  it  is  the  second  Emigration  this  that  has  now 
come  ;  most  extensive  among  Commons  Deputies,  Noblesse, 
Clergy  :  so  that  '  to  Switzerland  alone  there  go  sixty  thou- 
sand.' They  will  return  in  the  day  of  accounts !  Yes,  and 
have  hot  welcome. — But  Emigration  on  Emigration  is  the 
peculiarity  of  France.  One  Emigration  follows  anotlier ; 
gi'ounded  on  reasonable  fear,  unreasonable  hope,  largely  also 
on  childish  pet.  The  highflyers  have  gone  first,  now  the  lower 
flyers  ;  and  ever  the  lower  will  go,  down  to  the  crawlers. 
Whereby,  however,  cannot  our  National  Assembly  so  much 
the  more  commodiously  make  the  Constitution  ;  your  Two- 
Chamber  Anglomaniacs  being  all  safe,  distant  on  foreign 
shores  ?  Abbe  Maury  is  seized  and  sent  back  again  :  he, 
tough  as  tanned  leather,  with  eloquent  Captain  Cazales  and 
some  others,  will  stand  it  out  for  another  year. 

But  here,  meanwhile,  the  question  arises :  Was  Philippe 
d'Orleans  seen,  this  day,  'in  the  "Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  gray 
surtout ; '  waiting  under  the  wet  sere  foliage,  what  the  day 
might  bring  forth?  Alas,  yes,  the  Eidolon  of  him  was, — in 
Weber's  and  other  such  brains.  The  Chatelet  shall  make  large 
inquisition  into  the  matter,  examining  a  hundred  and  seventy 
witnesses,  and  Deputy  Chabroud  j)ublish  his  Report ;  but  dis- 
close nothing/«r//i(^r.*  What  then  has  caused  these  two  un- 
paralleled October  Days  ?  For  surely  such  dramatic  exhibi- 
tion never  yet  enacted  itself  without  Dramatist  and  Machinist. 
Wooden  Punch  emerges  not,  with  his  domestic  sorrows,  into 
the  light  of  day,  unless  the  wire  be  pulled  :  how  can  human 
mobs  ?  Was  it  not  d'Orleans  then,  and  Laclos,  Marquis  Sil- 
lery,  Mirabeau,  and  the  sons  of  confusion,  hoping  to  drive  the 
King  to  Metz,  and  gather  the  spoil  ?  Nay  was  it  not,  quite 
contrariwise,  the  QEil-de-Boeuf,  Bodyguard  Colonel  de  Guiche, 
Minister  Saint-Priest  and  highflying  Loyalists  ;  hoping  also  to 
drive  him  to  Metz ;  and  try  it  by  the  sword  of  civil  war  ? 

*  Rapport  de  Chabroud  (Moniteur,  du  31  Decembre,  1789) 


270  Tin:  is.sumiECTioN  of  women. 

Good  Mmpis  Toulougeon,  the  Historian  and  Deputy,  feels 
constrained  to  admit  that  it  was  hoth."^ 

Alas,  my  Friends,  credulous  incredulity  is  a  strange  matter. 
But  when  a  whole  Nation  is  smitten  with  Suspicion,  and  sees 
a  dramatic  miracle  in  the  very  o^jeration  of  the  gastric  juices, 
what  help  is  there?  Such  Nation  is  already  a  mere  hypo- 
chondriac bundle  of  diseases  ;  as  good  as  changed  into  glass  ; 
atrabiliar  decadent ;  and  will  suffer  crises.  Is  not  Suspicion 
itself  the  one  thing  to  be  suspected,  as  Montaigne  feared  only 
fear  ? 

Now,  however,  the  short  hour  has  struck.  His  Majesty  ia 
in  his  carriage,  wirh  his  Queen,  sister  Elizabeth,  and  two 
royal  children.  Not  for  another  hour  can  the  infinite  Pro- 
cession get  marshalled,  and  under  way.  The  weather  is  dim 
drizzling  ;  the  mind  confused  ;  the  noise  great. 

Processional  marches  not  a  few  our  Avorld  has  seen  ;  Eomau 
triumphs  and  ovations,  Cabiric  cymbal-beatings,  Eoyal  prog- 
resses, Irish  funerals :  but  this  of  the  French  Monarchy 
marching  to  its  bed  remained  to  be  seen.  Miles  long,  and  of 
breadth  losing  itself  in  vagueness,  for  all  the  neighbouring 
country  crowds  to  see.  Slow,  stagnating  along,  like  shore- 
less Lake,  yet  with  a  noise  like  Niagara,  like  Babel  and  Bed- 
lam. A  splashing  and  a  tramping  ;  a  hurrahing,  uproaring, 
musket- volleying  ; — the  truest  segment  of  Chaos  seen  in 
these  latter  Ages  !  Till  slowly  it  disembogue  itself,  in  the 
thickening  dusk,  into  expectant  Paris,  through  a  double  row 
of  faces  all  the  way  from  Passy  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville. 

Consider  this  :  Vanguard  of  National  troops  ;  Avith  trains  of 
artillery  ;  of  pikemen  and  pikewomen,  mounted  on  cannons, 
on  carts,  hackney-coaches,  or  on  foot ;  tripudiating,  in  tricolor 
ribbons  from  head  to  heel  ;  loaves  stuck  on  the  points  of 
bayonets,  green  boughs  stuck  in  gun-barrels,  f  Next,  as  main- 
march,  *  fifty  cartloads  of  corn,'  which  have  heen  lent,  for  peace, 
from  the  stores  of  Versailles.  Behind  which  follow  stragglers 
of  the  Garde-du-Corps  ;  all  humiliated,  in  Grenadier  bonnets. 
Close  on  these  comes  the  Iloyal  Carriage  ;  come  Royal  Car* 

*  Toulongt'on,  i.  150.  f  Mercier :  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  21. 


FROM  VERSAILLES.  277 

riages  :  for  there  are  a  Hvindred  National  Deputies  too,  among 
whom  sits  Mirabeau, — his  remarks  not  given.  Then  finally, 
pellmeU,  as  rearguard,  Flaudre,  Swiss,  Hundred  Swiss,  other 
Bodyguards,  Brigands,  whosoever  cannot  get  before.  Be- 
tween and  among  all  which  masses,  flows  without  limit  Saint- 
Antoiue,  and  the  Menadic  Cohort.  Menadic  especially  about 
the  Royal  C  irriage  ;  tripudiating  there,  covered  with  tricolor  ; 
singing  '  allusive  songs  ; '  pointing  with  one  hand  to  the  Royal 
C  irriage,  Avhich  the  allusions  hit,  and  pointing  to  the  Pro- 
vision-wagons, with  the  other  hand  and  these  words  :  "  Cour- 
"  age.  Friends  !  We  shall  not  want  bread  now  ;  we  are  bring- 
"  ing  you  the  Baker,  the  Bakeress,  and  Baker's  Boy  {le  Bou- 
"  langer,  la  Boulangere  et  lejjetit  3Iltron)."  * 

The  wet  day  draggles  the  tricolor,  but  the  joy  is  unextin- 
guishable.  Is  not  all  well  now?  "Ah  Madame,  notre  bonne 
Heine"  said  some  of  these  Strong-women  some  days  hence, 
"Ah,  Madame,  our  good  Queen,  don't  be  a  traitor  any  more 
"  {ne  soyez  pZ«s  traitre),  and  we  will  all  love  you  !  "  Poor 
Weber  went  splashing  along,  close  by  the  Royal  carriage, 
with  the  tear  in  his  eye  :  'their  Majesties  did  me  the  honour,' 
'or  I  thought  they  did  it,  to  testify',  fi-om  time  *to  time,  by 
'  shrugging  of  the  shoulders,  by  looks  directed  to  Heaven,  the 
'  emotions  they  felt.'  Thus,  like  frail  cockle,  floats  the  royal 
Life-boat,  helmless,  on  black  deluges  of  Rascality. 

Mercier,  in  his  loose  way,  estimates  the  Procession  and  as- 
sistants at  two  hundred  thousand.  He  says  it  was  one  bound- 
less inarticulate  Haha  ; — transcendent  World-Laughter ;  com- 
parable to  the  Saturnalia  of  the  Ancients.  Why  not  ?  Here 
too,  as  we  said,  is  Human  Nature  once  more  human  ;  shudder 
at  it  whoso  is  of  shuddering  humour  :  yet  behold  it  is  human. 
It  has  '  swallowed  all  formulas  ; '  it  tripudiates  even  so.  For 
which  i-eason  they  that  collect  Vases  and  Antiques  with  figures 
of  Dancing  Bacchantes  '  in  w'ild  and  ail-but  impossible  posi- 
tions,' may  look  with  some  interest  on  it. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  slow-moving  Chaos  or  modern  Sat- 
urnalia of  the  Ancients,  reached  the  Barrier ;  and  must  halt, 
*  Toiilongeon,  i.  134-161.— Deux  Amis  ;iii.  c.  9)  ;  &c.;  ka. 


•2  <  5  Tin-J  INSURRECTION  OF  WOMEN. 

to  be  liarangued  by  Mayor  Bailly.  Thereafter  it  has  to  lum- 
ber along,  between  the  double  row  of  faces,  in  the  transcen- 
dent heaven-lashing  Haha  ;  two  hours  longer,  towards  the 
Hutel-de-Yille.  Then  again  to  be  harangued  there,  by  several 
l^ersons ;  by  !Moreau  de  Saint-Mery  among  others  ;  Moreau 
of  the  Thi-ee-tliousand  orders,  now  National  Deputy  for  St. 
Domingo.  To  all  which  poor  Louis,  '  who  seemed  to  expe- 
rience a  shght  emotion '  on  entering  this  Townhall,  can  answer 
only  that  he  "comes  with  pleasure,  -with  confidence  among 
his  people."  Mayor  Bailly,  in  reporting  it,  forgets  '  confi- 
dence ;'  and  the  poor  Queen  says  eagerly  :  "Add  with  confi- 
dence."— "Messieurs,"  rejoins  Mayor  Bailly,  "You  are  hap- 
pier than  if  I  had  not  forgotten. " 

Finally,  the  King  is  shown  on  an  upper  balcony,  by  torch- 
light, with  a  huge  tricolor  in  his  hat:  'and  all  the  people,' 
saj's  Weber,  '  gi-asped  one  another's  hands  ; ' — thinking  now 
surely  the  New  Era  was  born.  Hardly  till  eleven  at  night 
can  Koyalty  get  to  its  vacant,  long  deserted  Palace  of  the 
Tuileries  :  to  lodge  there,  somewhat  in  strolling-player  fashion- 
It  is  Tuesday,  the  sixth  of  October,  1789. 

Poor  Loifis  has  Two  other  Paris  Processions  to  make  :  one 
ludicrous-ignominious  like  this  ;  the  other  not  ludicrous  nor 
ignominious,  but  serious,  nay,  subhme. 


END   OF    P.VRT    L 


BOOK  YIII 


THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


THE    CONSTITUTION. 
CHAPTER  I 

IN     THE     TUILEEIES. 

The  victim  having  once  got  Ins  stroke-of-grace,  the  catas- 
trophe can  be  considered  as  ahnost  come.  There  is  small  in- 
terest now  in  watching  his  long  low  moans  :  notable  only  are 
his  sharper  agonies,  what  convulsive  struggles  he  may  make 
to  cast  the  torture  off  fi-om  him  ;  and  then  finally  the  last 
departure  of  life  itself,  and  how  he  lies  extinct  and  ended, 
either  wrapt  like  Ctesar  in  decorous  mantle-folds,  or  unseemly 
sunk  together,  hke  one  that  had  not  the  force  even  to  die. 

Was  Fx'ench  Royalty,  when  wrenched  forth  from  its  tapes- 
tries in  that  fashion,  on  that  Sixth  of  October,  1789,  such  a 
victim  ?  Universal  France,  and  Royal  Proclamation  to  all  the 
Provinces,  answers  anxiously,  No  ;  nevertheless  one  may  fear 
the  worst.  Royalty  was  beforehand  so  decrepit,  moribund, 
there  is  little  life  in  it  to  heal  an  injury.  How  much  of  its 
sti'ength,  which  was  of  the  imagination  merely,  has  fled  ;  Ras- 
cality having  looked  plainly  in  the  King's  face,  and  not  died  ! 
When  the  assembled  crows  can  pluck  up  theii'  scarecrow,  and 
say  to  it.  Here  shalt  thou  stand  and  not  there  ;  and  can  treat 
with  it,  and  make  it,  from  an  infinite,  a  quite  finite  ConstitiT- 
tional  scarecrow,— what  is  to  be  looked  for  ?  Not  in  the  finite 
Constitutional  scarecrow,  but  in  what  still  unmeasured,  ii  n- 


280  THE  FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

iiite-seeming  force  may  rally  round  it,  is  there  thenceforth  any 
hope.  For  it  is  most  true  that  all  available  Authority  is  myH' 
tic  in  its  conditions,  and  comes  '  by  the  grace  of  God.' 

CheerfuUer  than  watching  the  death-struggles  of  Eoyalism 
will  it  be  to  watch  the  growth  and  gambollings  of  Sansculot- 
tism  ;  for,  in  human  things,  especially  in  human  society,  all 
death  is  but  a  death-birth  :  thus,  if  the  sceptre  is  departing 
from  Louis,  it  is  only  that,  in  other  forms,  other  sceptres, 
were  it  even  pike-scepti-es,  may  bear  sway.  In  a  prurient  ele- 
ment, rich  with  nutritive  influences,  we  shall  find  that  Saus- 
culottism  grows  lustily,  and  even  frisks  in  not  ungraceful 
sport :  as  indeed  most  young  creatures  are  sportful ;  nay, 
may  it  not  be  noted  further,  that  as  the  grown  cat,  and  cat- 
species  generally,  is  the  cruellest  thing  known,  so  the  merriest 
is  ]Drecisely  the  kitten,  or  growing  cat  ? 

But  fancy  the  Eoyal  Family  risen  from  its  truckle-beds  on 
the  morrow  of  that  mad  day  :  fancy  the  Municij^al  inquiry, 
"How  would  yoiu"  Majesty  please  to  lodge?" — and  then 
that  the  King's  rough  answer,  "  Each  may  lodge  as  he  can,  I 
"am  well  enough,"  is  congeed  and  bowed  away,  in  exin-essivo 
grins,  by  the  Townhall  Functionaries,  wdth  obsequious  uphol- 
sterers at  their  back  ;  and  how  the  Chateau  of  the  Tuileries  is 
repainted,  regarnished  into  a  golden  Royal  Residence  ;  and 
Lafayette  with  his  blue  National  Guards  lies  encompassing  it, 
as  blue  Neptune  (in  the  language  of  poets)  does  an  island, 
wooingly.  Thither  may  the  wrecks  of  rehabilitated  Loyalty 
gather,  if  it  will  become  Constitutional ;  for  Constitutionalism 
thinks  no  evil ;  Sansculottism  itself  rejoices  in  the  King's 
countenance.  The  rubbish  of  a  Menadic  Insurrection,  as  in 
this  cverkindly  world  all  rubbish  can  and  must  be,  is  swept 
aside  ;  and  so  again,  on  clear  arena,  under  new  conditions, 
with  something  even  of  a  new  stateliness,  we  begin  a  new 
course  of  action. 

Arthur  Young  has  witnessed  the  strangest  scene  :  Majesty 
walking  unattended  in  the  Tuileries  Gai'dens  ;  and  miscella- 
neous tricolor  crowds,  v/ho  cheer  it,  and  reverently  make  way 
fc?]-  it  :  the  very  Queen  commands  at  lower.t  respectful  nilence. 


IJy  THE  TUILERIES.  2S1 

regretful  avoidance.*  Simple  ducks,  in  those  royal  waters, 
quackle  for  crumbs  from  young  royal  lingers  :  the  little  Dau- 
phin has  a  little  railed  garden,  where  he  is  seen  delving,  with 
ruddy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curled  hair ;  also  a  little  hutch  to 
put  his  tools  in,  and  screen  himself  against  showers.  What 
peaceable  simplicity  !  Is  it  peace  of  a  Father  restored  to  his 
children  ?  Or  of  a  Task-master  who  has  lost  his  whip  ?  La- 
fayette and  the  Municipality  and  universal  Constitutionalism 
assert  the  former,  and  do  what  is  in  them  to  realise  it.  Such 
Patriotism  as  snarls  dangerous!}^,  and  shows  teeth,  Patrollot- 
ism  shall  suppress  ;  or  far  better.  Royalty  shall  soothe  down 
the  angry  hair  of  it,  by  gentle  pattings  ;  and,  most  effectual  of 
all,  by  fuller  diet.  Yes,  not  only  shall  Paris  be  fed,  but  the 
King's  hand  be  seen  in  that  work.  The  household  goods  of 
the  Poor  shall,  up  to  a  certain  amount,  by  royal  bounty,  be  dis- 
engaged from  pawn,  and  that  insatiable  Mont  de  Plit'e  shall 
disgorge  :  rides  in  the  city  with  their  Vive-le-roi  need  not  fail ; 
and  so  by  substance  and  show,  shall  Royalty,  if  man's  art  can 
popularise  it,  be  popularised,  f 

Or,  alas,  is  it  neither  restored  Father  nor  diswhipped  Task- 
master that  walks  there  ;  but  an  anomalous  complex  of  both 
these,  and  of  innumerable  other  heterogeneities  :  reducible  to 
no  rubric,  if  not  to  this  newly  devised  one  :  King  Louis  lie- 
dorer  of  French  Liberty  ?  Man  indeed,  and  King  Louis  like 
other  men,  lives  in  this  world  to  make  rule  out  of  the  ruleless  ; 
by  his  living  energy,  he  shall  force  the  absurd  itself  to  become 
bss  absurd.  But  then  if  there  he  no  living  energy  ;  living 
passivity  only  ?  lung  Serpent,  hurled  into  its  unexpected 
watery  dominion,  did  at  least  bite,  and  assert  credibly  tliat  he 
w\T,s  there  :  but  as  for  the  poor  King  Log,  tumbled  hither  and 
thitlier  as  thousandfold  chance  and  other  will  than  his  might 
direct,  how  happy  for  him  that  he  was  indeed  wooden  ;  and 
doing  nothing,  could  also  see  and  suffer  nothing  !  It  is  a  dis- 
tracted business. 

For  his  French  Majesty,  meanwhile,  one  of  the  worst  things 
i3  that  he  can  get  no  hunting.  Alas,  no  hunting  henceforth  ; 
only  a  fatal  being-hunted  !     Scarcely,  in  the  next  June  weeks, 

*  Artlinr  Young's  Travels,  i.  :-^64-C30.  f  ^011;;  Ami?,  iii.  c.  10. 


282  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

shall  he  taste  again  the  joys  of  the  game-destroyer  ;  in  next 
June,  ami  never  more.  He  sends  for  his  smith-tools  ;  gives, 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  official  or  ceremonial  business  being 
ended,  '  a  few  strokes  of  the  file,  quelque  cvups  de  lime.'*  In- 
nocent brother  mortal,  why  wert  thou  not  an  obscure  sub- 
stantial maker  of  locks  ;  but  doomed  in  that  other  far-seen 
craft,  to  be  a  maker  only  o;  world  follies,  unrealities  ;  things 
self-destructive,  which  no  mortal  hammering  could  rivet  into 
coherence  ! 

Poor  Louis  is  not  without  insight,  nor  even  without  the  ele- 
ments of  vnll  ;  some  sharpness  of  temper,  spurting  at  times 
from  a  stagnating  character.  If  harmless  inertness  could  save 
him,  it  were  well  ;  but  he  will  slumber  and  painfully  dream, 
and  to  do  aught  is  not  given  him.  Royalist  Antiquarians  still 
show  the  rooms  where  Majesty  and  suite,  in  these  extraordi- 
nary circumstances,  had  theu'  lodging.  Here  sat  the  Queen  ; 
reading, — for  she  had  her  library  brought  hither,  though  the 
king  refused  his  ;  taking  vehement  counsel  of  the  vehement 
imcounselled  ;  sorrowing  over  altered  times  ;  yet  with  sure 
hoi>e  of  better :  in  her  young  rosy  Boy,  has  she  not  the  living 
emblem  of  hope !  It  is  a  murky,  working  sky  ;  yet  with  golden 
gleams — of  dawn,  or  of  deeper  meteoric  night?  Here  again 
this  chamber,  on  the  other  side  of  the  main  entrance,  was  the 
King's  :  here  his  Majesty  breakfasted,  and  did  official  work  ; 
liere  daily  after  breakfast  he  received  the  Queen  ;  sometimes 
in  pathetic  friendliness  ;  sometimes  in  human  sulkiness,  for 
flesh  is  weak  ;  and,  when  questioned  about  business,  would 
answer  :  "  Madame,  yoiu'  business  is  with  the  children."  Nay, 
Sire,  were  it  not  better  you,  your  Majesty's  self,  took  the  chil- 
dren?— So  asks  impartial  History;  scornful  that  ihe  thickei 
vessel  was  not  also  the  stronger  ;  pity  stiiack  for  the  porcelain 
clay  of  humanity  rather  than  for  the  tile-clay — though  indeed 
huth  were  broken  ! 

So,  however,  in  this  Medicean  Tuileries,  shall  the  French 
King  and  Queen  now  sit  for  one-and-forty  months  ;  and  see  a 
wild-fermenting  France  work  out  its  own  destiny,  and  theuu 

•  Le  Chitean  des  Tuiloiies,  ou  rCcit,  &c  ,  par  Roussel  in  ITi?t.  Tarl. 
i.-.  19:-C19). 


IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  283 

• 
Months  bleak,  ungenial,  of  rapid  vicissitude  ;  yet  with  a  mild 
pale  splendour,  here  and  there :  as  of  an  April  that  were  lead- 
ing to  leafiest  Summer  ;  as  of  an  October  that  led  only  to  ever- 
lasting Frost.  Mediceau  Tuileries,  how  changed  since  it  was 
a  peaceful  Tilefield  !  Or  is  the  ground  itself  fate-stricken,  ac- 
cursed ;  an  Atreus  Palace  ;  for  that  Louvre  window  is  still 
nigh,  out  of  which  a  Capet,  whipt  of  the  Furies,  fired  his  signal 
of  the  Saint  Bartholomew  !  Dark  is  the  way  of  the  Eternal  as 
mirrored  in  this  world  of  Time  :  God's  way  is  in  the  sea,  and 
His  path  in  the  great  deep. 


CHA.PTEE  n. 

IN    THE    SAIiE   DE   MANEGE. 


To  belie^•ing  Patriots,  however,  it  is  now  clear,  that  the  Con- 
stitution will  now  march,  marcher, — had  it  once  legs  to  stand 
on.  Quick,  then,  ye  Patriots,  bestir  yourselves,  and  make  it ; 
sliape  legs  for  it !  In  the  Archeotche,  or  Archbishop's  Palace, 
his  Grace  himself  ha\ing  fled  ;  and  afterwards  in  the  Eiding- 
hall,  named  Manege,  close  on  the  Tuileries,  there  does  a  Na- 
tional Assembly  apply  itself  to  the  miraculous  work.  Success- 
fully had  there  been  any  heaven-scahng  Prometheus  among 
them  ;  not  successfully,  since  there  was  none !  There,  in 
noisy  debate,  for  the  sessions  are  occasionally  '  scandalous/ 
and  as  many  as  three  speakers  have  been  seen  in  the  Tribune 
at  once, — let  us  continue  to  fancy  it  wearing  the  slow  months. 

Tough,  dogmatic,  long  of  wind  is  Abbe  Maury  ;  Ciceronian 
pathetic  is  Cazales.  Keen-trenchant,  on  the  other  side,  glit- 
ters a  young  Barnave  ;  abhorrent  of  sophistry  ;  sheering,  like 
keen  Damascus  sabre,  all  sophistry  asunder, — reckless  what 
else  he  sheer  with  it.  Simple  seemest  thou,  O  solid  Dutch- 
built-Petion  ;  if  solid,  surely  dull.  Nor  hfegiving  is  that  tone 
of  thine,  livelier  polemical  Eabaut.  With  ineffixble  seren- 
ity sniffs  great  Sieyes,  aloft,  alone  ;  his  Constitution  ye  may 
babble  over,  je  may  mar,  but  can  by  no  possibility  mend  :  is 
not  Polity  a  science  he  has  exhausted  ?     Cool,  slow,  two  mill- 


2S4:  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

• 
t  \vy  Lametlis  are  visible,  with  their  quaHty  sueer,  or  demi- 
sneer  ;  they  shall  gallantly  refund  their  Mother's  Pension, 
when  the  Eed  Book  is  produced  ;  gallantly  be  wounded  in 
duels.  A  Marquis  Toulongeon,  whose  Pen  we  yet  thank,  sits 
there  ;  in  stoical  meditative  humour,  oftenest  silent,  accepts 
Avhat  destiny  will  send.  Thouret  and  Parlemeutary  Diqjort 
produce  mountains  of  Keformed  Law  ;  liberal,  Anglomaniac  ; 
available  and  unavailable.  Mortals  rise  and  fall.  Shall  goose 
Gobel,  for  example, — or  Gobel,  for  he  is  of  Strasbru'g  German 
breed, — be  a  Constitutional  Archbishop  ? 

Alone  of  all  men  there,  Mirabeau  may  begin  to  discern 
clearly  whither  all  this  is  tending.  Patriotism,  accordingly, 
regrets  that  his  zeal  seems  to  be  getting  cool.  In  that  famed 
Pentecost-Night  of  the  Fourth  of  August,  when  new  faith  rose 
suddenly  into  miraculous  fire,  and  old  Feudality  was  burnt  up, 
men  remarked  that  Mirabeau  took  no  hand  in  it  ;  that,  in  fact, 
lie  luckily  haj)pened  to  be  absent.  But  did  he  not  defend  the 
Veto,  nay  Velo  Absolu  ;  and  tell  vehement  Barnave  that  six 
hundred  irresponsible  senators  would  make  of  aU  tyrannies 
tlie  insupportablest  ?  Again,  how  anxious  was  he  that  the 
King's  Ministers  should  have  seat  and  voice  in  the  National 
Assembly  ; — doubtless  with  an  eye  to  being  Minister  himself ! 
"Whereupon  the  National  Assembly  decides,  what  is  very  mo- 
mentous, that  no  Deputy  shall  be  Minister  ;  he,  in  his  haughty 
stormful  manner,  advising  us  to  make  it,  "no  Deputy  called 
Mirabeau."  *  A  man  of  perhaps  inveterate  Feudalisms ;  of 
stratagems  ;  too  often  visible  leanings  towards  tlie  Koyalist 
side  :  a  man  suspect ;  whom  Patriotism  will  unmask  !  Thus, 
in  these  June  days,  when  the  question,  ^VllO  shall  have  right 
t)  duiare  war?  comes  on,  you  hear  hoarse  Hawkers  sound 
dolefully  through  the  streets,  "  Grand  Ti-eason  of  Count  Mira- 
beau, price  only  one  sou  ;  " — because  he  pleads  that  it  shall  be 
not  the  Assembly,  but  the  King !  Pleads  ;  nay,  prevails  ;  for 
in  spite  of  the  hoarse  Hawkers,  and  an  endless  Populace  raised 
by  them  to  the  pitch  even  of  '  Lanterne,'  he  mounts  the  Trib- 
une next  day  ;  grim-resolute  ;  murmuring  aside  to  his  friends 
that  speak  of  danger  :  "  I  know  it :  I  must  come  hence  either 
♦  Monitenr,  Nos  65,  86  (29th  PpptembcT,  7th  Xovembor,  1789). 


IN  THE  SALLE  BE  MANEGE.  2S5 

"  in  triumph,  or  else  torn  in  fragments  ;  "  and  it  was  in  tri- 
umph that  he  crane. 

A  man  stout  of  heart ;  whose  popularity  is  not  of  the  popu- 
lace, 'jjas  po'pulacitre  ;  '  whom  no  clamour  of  unwashed  mobs 
without  doors,  or  of  washed  mobs  within,  can  scare  from  his 
way !  Dumont  remembers  hearing  him  deliver  a  Report  on 
Marseilles  ;  '  every  word  was  interrupted  on  the  part  of  the 
'  Cote  Droit  by  abusive  epithets  ;  calumniator,  liar,  assassin, 
*  scoundrel  {scelerat)  :  Mirabeau  pauses  a  moment,  and,  in  a 
'  honeyed  tone,  addressing  the  most  furious,  says :  "  I  wait, 
'  Messieurs,  till  these  amenities  be  exhausted,"  '  *  A  man  enig- 
matic, diffici-dt  to  unmask  !  For  example,  whence  comes  his 
money  ?  Can  the  profit  of  a  NcAvspaper,  sorely  eaten  into  by 
Dame  Le  Jay  ;  can  this,  and  the  eighteen  francs  a-day  your 
National  Deputy  has,  be  supposed  equal  to  this  expenditure  ? 
House  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin  ;  Country-house  at  Argenteuil ; 
splendours,  sumptuosities,  orgies  ; — living  as  if  he  had  a  mint ! 
All  saloons,  barred  against  Adventurer  Mirabeau,  are  flung 
wide-open  to  King  Mirabeau,  the  cynosure  of  Europe,  whom 
female  France  flutters  to  behold,— though  the  Man  Mirabeau 
is  one  and  the  same.  As  for  money,  one  may  conjecture  that 
Royalism  furnishes  it ;  which  if  Eoyalism  do,  will  not  the  same 
be  welcome,  as  money  always  is  to  him  ? 

'Sold,'  whatever  Patriotism  thinks,  he  cannot  readily  be: 
the  spiritual  fire  which  is  in  that  man  ;  which  shining  through 
such  confusions  is  nevertheless  Conviction,  and  makes  him 
strong,  and  without  which  he  had  no  strength,— is  not  buy- 
able nor  saleable  ;  in  such  transference  of  barter,  it  would 
vanish  and  not  be.  Perhaps  '  paid  and  not  sold,  j^aye  pas 
vendu  : '  as  poor  Rivarol,  in  the  unhappier  converse  wa}^  calls 
himself  '  sold  and  not  paid  ! '  A  man  travelling,  comet-like, 
in  splendour  and  nebulosity,  his  wild  way  ;  whom  telescopic 
Patriotism  may  long  watch,  but  without  higher  mathematics, 
will  not  make  out.  A  questionable  most  blameable  man  ;  yet 
to  us  the  far  notablest  of  all.  With  rich  munificence,  as  we 
often  say,  in  a  most  blinkard,  bespectacled,  logic-chopping 
generation,  Nature  has  gifted  this  man  with  an  eye.  Wei- 
*  Dumout :   Soi;venirs,  p.  278. 


286  THE  FEAST  OF  PTKES. 

come  is  his  word,  there  where  he  spealcs  and  works  ;  and 
growing  ever  welcomer  ;  for  it  alone  goes  to  the  heart  of  the 
business  :  logical  cobwebbery  shrinks  itself  together ;  and 
thou  seest  a  thing,  how  it  is,  how  it  may  be  worked  with. 

Unhappily  our  National  Assembly  has  much  to  do  :  a  France 
to  regenerate  ;  and  France  is  short  of  so  many  requisites  ; 
short  even  of  cash.  These  same  Finances  give  trouble  enough  ; 
no  choking  of  the  Deficit ;  which  gapes  ever,  Give,  give  !  To 
aj)pease  the  Deficit  we  venture  on  a  hazardous  step,  sale  of 
the  Clergy's  Lands  and  superfluous  Edifices  ;  most  hazardous. 
Nay,  given  the  sale,  who  is  to  buy  them,  ready- money  having 
fled?  Wherefore,  on  the  19th  day  of  December,  a  paj^er- 
money  of  '  Asaignats,'  of  Bonds  secured,  or  assigned,  on  that 
Clerico-National  Property,  and  unquestionable  at  least  in  pay- 
ment of  that, — is  decreed  ;  the  first  of  a  long  -series  of  like 
financial  performances,  which  shall  astonish  mankind.  So 
that  now,  while  old  rags  last,  there  shall  be  no  lack  of  circu- 
lating medium  :  whether  of  commodities  to  circulate  thereon, 
is  another  question.  But,  after  all,  does  not  this  Assignat 
business  speak  volumes  for  modern  science?  Bankrujitcy, 
we  may  say,  was  come,  as  the  end  of  all  Delusions  needs  must 
come  :  yet  how  gently,  in  softening  diffusion,  in  mild  succes- 
sion, was  it  hereby  made  to  fall  ;  like  no  all-destroying  ava- 
lanche ;  like  gentle  showers  of  a  powdery  impalpable  snow, 
shower  after  shower,  till  all  was  indeed  buried,  and  yet  little 
was  destroyed  that  could  not  be  replaced,  be  dispensed  with  ! 
To  such  length  has  modern  machinery  reached.  Bankruptcy, 
we  said,  was  great ;  but  indeed  Money  itself  is  a  standing 
miracle. 

On  the  whole  it  is  a  matter  of  endless  difficulty,  that  of  the 
Clergy.  Clerical  property  may  be  made  the  Nation's,  and  the 
'Clergy  hired  servants  of  the  State  ;  but  if  so,  is  it  not  an  al- 
tered Church?  Adjustment  enough,  of  the  most  confused 
sort,  has  become  unavoidable.  Old  landmarks,  in  any  sense, 
avail  not  in  a  new  France.  Nay,  literally,  the  very  Ground  is 
new  divided  ;  your  old  party-coloured  Provinces  become  new 
uniform  Depai'hnenls,  Eighty-three  in  number  ; — whereby,  as 
in  some  sudden  shifting  of  the  Earth's  axis,  no  mortal  knows 


/:V^  THE  SALLE  BE  MANEGE.  287 

his  new  latitude  at  ouce.  The  Twelve  old  Parlements  too, 
what  is  to  be  done  with  them  ?  The  old  Parlements  are  de- 
clared to  be  all  'in  permanent  vacation,'— till  once  the  new 
equal-justice,  of  Departmental  Courts,  National  Appeal-Court, 
of  elective  Justices,  Justices  of  Peace,  and  other  Thouret  and- 
Duport  apparatus  be  got  ready.  They  have  to  sit  there,  these 
old  Parlements,  uneasily  waiting  ;  as  it  were,  with  the  rope 
round  their  neck  ;  crying  as  they  can.  Is  there  none  to  delimr 
MS  ?  But  happily  the  answer  being.  None,  None,  they  are  a 
manageable  class,  these  Parlements.  They  can  be  bullied, 
even,  into  silence  ;  the  Paris  Parlement,  wiser  than  most,  has 
never  whimpered.  They  will  and  must  sit  there  ;  in  such  va- 
cation as  is  fit ;  their  Chamber  of  Vacation  distributes  in  the 
interim  what  little  justice  is  going.  With  the  rope  round 
their  neck,  their  destiny  may  be  succinct !  On  the  13th  of 
November,  1790,  Mayor  Bailly  shall  walk  to  the  P;ilais  de 
Justice,  few  even  heeding  him ;  and  with  municipal  seal- 
stamp  and  a  little  hot  wax,  seal  up  the  Parlementary  Paper- 
rooms, — and  the  dread  Parlement  of  Paris  pass  away,  into 
Chaos,  gently  as  does  a  Dream !  So  shall  the  Parlements 
perish,  succinctly  ;  and  innumerable  eyes  be  dry. 

Not  so  the  Clergy.  For  granting  even  that  Religion  were 
dead  ;  that  it  had  died,  half-centuries  ago,  with  unutterable 
Dubois  ;  or  emigrated  lately,  to  Alsace,  with  Necklace-Car- 
dinal Rohan  ;  or  that  it  now  walked  as  goblin  revenant  with 
Bishop  Talleyrand  of  Autun  ;  yet  does  not  the  Shadow  of 
Religion,  the  Cant  of  Religion,  still  linger  ?  The  Clergy  have 
means  and  material :  means  of  number,  organisation,  social 
Aveight ;  a  material,  at  lowest,  of  public  ignorance,  known  to 
be  the  mother  of  devotion.  Nay,  withal,  is  it  incredible  that 
tliere  might,  in  simple  hearts,  latent  here  and  there  like  gold- 
grains  in  the  mud-beach,  still  dwell  some  real  Faith  in  God, 
of  so  singular  and  tenacious  a  sort  that  even  a  Maury  or  a 
Talleyrand,  could  still  be  the  symbol  for  it? — Enough,  the 
Clergy  has  strength,  the  Clergy  has  craft  and  indignation. 
It  is  a  most  fatal  business  this  of  the  Clergy.  A  weltering 
liydra-coil,  which  the  National  Assembly  has  stirred  up  about 
its  ears  ;  hissing,  stinging  ;  which  cannot  be  appeased,  alive  • 


'266  Tin:  FEAST  OF  PlKFo. 

which  cannot  be  trampled  dead !  Fatal,  from  first  to  last! 
Scarcely  after  fifteen  months'  debating,  can  a  6Vi;i7  Constitulion 
of  the  Clergy  be  so  much  as  got  to  paper  ;  and  then  for  get- 
ting it  into  realit}'  ?  Alas,  such  Civil  Constitution  is  but  an 
agreement  to  disagree.  It  divides  France  from  end  to  end, 
with  a  new  split,  infinitely  complicating  all  the  other  splits  : 
— Catholicism,  what  of  it  there  is  left,  with  the  Cant  of 
Catholicism  raging  on  the  one  side,  and  sceptic  Heathenism 
on  th»  other  ;  both,  by  contradiction,  waxing  fanatic.  "What 
endless  jarring,  of  Eefractory  hated  Priests,  and  Constitutional 
despised  ones ;  of  tender  consciences,  like  the  King's,  and 
consciences  hot-seared,  like  certain  of  his  People's  :  the  whole 
to  end  in  Feasts  of  Keason  and  a  War  of  La  Vendee  !  So 
deep  seated  is  Keligion  in  the  heart  of  man,  and  holds  of  all 
infinite  passions.  If  the  dead  echo  of  it  still  did  so  much, 
what  could  not  the  living  voice  of  it  once  do  ? 

Finance  and  Constitution,  Law  and  Gospel  :  this  surely 
Kveve  work  enough  ;  yet  this  is  not  all.  Li  fact,  the  Ministry, 
and  Necker  himself,  whom  a  brass  inscription  '  fastened  by 
the  people  over  his  door-lintel,'  testifies  to  be  the  ' Minislre 
adorr,'  are  dwindling  into  clearer  and  clearer  nvdlity.  Execu- 
tion or  legislation,  arrangement  or  detail,  from  their  nerveless 
fingers  all  drops  undone  ;  all  lights  at  last  on  the  toiled  shoul- 
ders of  an  august  Eepresentative  Body.  Heavy  laden  National 
Assembly !  It  has  to  hear  of  innumerable  fresh  revolts, 
Brigand  expeditions  ;  of  Chateaus  in  the  West,  especially  of 
Charter-chests,  Charliev,^,  set  on  fire;  for  there  too  the  over- 
loaded Ass  frightfully  recalcitrates.  Of  Cities  in  the  South 
full  of  heats  and  jealousies  ;  which  Avill  end  in  cross  sabres, 
Marseilles  against  Toulon,  and  Carpentras  beleaguered  by 
Avignon  ; — of  so  much  Eoyalist  collision  in  a  career  of  Free- 
dom  ;  na}',  of  Patriot  collision,  which  a  mere  difference  of 
velocily  Avill  bring  about !  Of  a  Jourdan  Coup-tete,  who  has 
skulked  thitherward,  to  those  soutliern  regions,  from  the  claws 
of  the  ChAtelet :  and  will  raise  whole  scoundrel-regiments. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  of  Royahst  Camp  of  Jails  :  Jalcs  moun- 
tain-girdled Plain,  amid  the  rocks  of  the  Cevennes  ;  whence 
Royalism,  as  is  feared  and  hoped,  may  dash  down  like  a  moun- 


/A'  THE  SALLE  BE  MANEGE.  2S9 

tain  deluge,  and  submerge  France  !  A  singular  thing  tins 
Camp  of  Jales  ;  existing  mostly  on  paper.  For  the  Soldiers 
at  Jales,  being  peasants  or  National  Guards,  were  in  heart 
sworn  Sansculottes  ;  and  all  that  the  Royalist  Captains  could 
do  was,  with  Mse  words,  to  keep  them,  or  rather  keep  the 
report  of  them,  drawn  tip  there,  visible  to  all  imaginations, 
for  a  terror  and  a  sign, — if  peradventure  France  might  be  re- 
conquered by  theatrical  machinery,  by  the  picture  of  a  Eoyal- 
ist  Army  done  to  the  life  !  ■•'  Not  till  the  third  summer  was 
this  portent,  burning  out  by  fits  and  then  fading,  got  finally 
extinguished  ;  was  the  old  C.istle  of  Jales,  no  Camp  being 
visible  to  the  bodily  eye,  got  blown  asunder  by  some  National 
Guards. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  not  only  of  Brissot  and  his  Friends  of  the 
Blades,  but  by  and  by  of  a  whole  St.  Domingo  blazing  sky- 
ward ;  blazing  in  literal  fire,  and  in  far  worse  metaphorical ; 
beaconing  the  nightly  main.  Also  of  the  shipping  interest, 
and  th§  landed  interest,  and  all  manner  of  interests,  reduced 
to  distress.  Of  Industry  every  where  manacled,  bewildered  ; 
and  only  RebelHon  thriving.  Of  sub-officers,  soldiers  and 
sailors  in  mutiny  by  land  and  water.  Of  soldiers,  at  Nanci, 
as  we  shall  see,  needing  to  be  cannonaded  by  a  brave  Bouille. 
Of  sailors,  nay,  the  very  galley-slaves  at  Brest,  needing  also  to 
be  cannonaded  ;  but  with  no  Bouillo  to  do  it.  For  indeed, 
to  say  it  in  a  w^ord,  in  those  days  there  was  no  King  in  Israel, 
and  every  man  did  that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes,  f 

Such  things  has  an  august  National  Assembly  to  hear  of,  as 
it  goes  on  regenerating  France.  Sad  and  stern  :  but  what 
remedy  ?  Get  the  Constitution  ready  ;  and  all  men  will  sw^ear 
to  it :  for  do  not  '  Addresses  of  adhesion '  arrive  by  the  cart- 
load ?  In  this  manner,  by  Heaven's  blessing  and  a  Constitu- 
tion got  ready,  shall  the  bottomless  fii-e-gulf  be  vaulted  in, 
with  rag-pajDer  ;  and  Order  will  wed  Freedom,  and  .live  with 

*  Dampmartin  :  Evenemens,  i.  208. 

f  See  Deax  Amis  (iii.  c.  14  ;  iv.  c.  2,  B,  4,  7,  9,  14).— Expedition  des 
Volontaires  de  Brest  sur  Lannion  ;  Les  LA'oiinais  Sauveurs  des  Dauphin- 
ais  ;  Massacre  au  Mans ;  Troubles  dii  Maine  (Pamphlets  and  Excerpts 
in  Hist.  rarl.  iii.  251  ;  iv.  1G2-10S},  &c. 
Vol.  I.  — 19 


290  77/a;   feast   of   PTKFS. 

lier  ilierc, — till  it  grow  too  hot  for  tlieiu.  O  Cot'j,  Gauche, 
worthy  are  ye,  as  the  adhesive  Addresses  generally  say,  to  '  fix 
the  regards  of  the  Universe  ; '  the  regai'ds  of  this  one  poor 
Planet,  at  lowest ! — 

Nay,  it  must  be  owned,  the  Cot^  Droit  makes  a  still  madder 
figure.  An  irrational  generation ;  irrational,  imbecile,  and 
Avith  the  vehement  obstinacy  characteristic  of  that ;  a  genera- 
tion which  will  not  learn.  Falling  Bastilles,  Lisurrections  of 
Women,  thousands  of  smoting  Manorhouses,  a  country  brist- 
ling with  no  crop  but  that  of  Sansculottic  steel :  these  were 
tolerably  didactic  lessons  ;  but  them  they  have  not  taught. 
There  are  still  men,  of  whom  it  was  of  old  written,  Bray  them 
in  a  mortar !  Or,  in  milder  language,  They  have  ivedded  their 
delusions ;  fire  nor  steel,  nor  any  sharpness  of  Experience, 
shall  sever  the  bond  ;  till  death  do  us  part !  Of  such  may  the 
Heavens  have  mercy  ;  for  the  Earth,  with  her  rigorous  Keces- 
sity,  will  have  none. 

Admit,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  most  natural.  Man 
lives  by  Hope  :  Pandora,  when  her  box  of  gods'-gifts  flew  all 
out,  and  became  gods'-curses,  still  retained  Hope.  How  shall 
an  irrational  mortal,  when  his  high-place  is  never  so  evidently 
pulled  down,  and  he,  being  irrational,  is  left  resourceless, — 
part  with  the  belief  that  it  will  be  rebuilt  ?  It  would  make 
all  so  straight  again  ;  it  seems  so  vanspeakably  desirable  ;  so 
reasonable, — would  you  but  look  at  it  aright !  For,  must 
not  the  thing  which  was,  continue  to  be  ;  or  else  the  solid 
World  dissolve?  Yes,  persist,  O  infatuated  Sansculottes  of 
France  !  Revolt  against  constituted  Authorities  ;  hunt  out 
your  rightful  Seigneurs,  who  at  bottom  so  loved  you,  and 
readily  shed  their  blood  for  you, — in  country's  battles  as  at 
Rossbach  and  elsewhere ;  and,  even  in  preserving  game,  were 
preserving  t/ou,  could  ye  but  have  understood  it :  hunt  them 
out,  as  if  they  were  wild  wolves ;  set  fire  to  their  Chateaus 
and  Chart  iers  as  to  wolf-dens ;  and  what  then  ?  Why,  then 
turn  every  man  his  hand  against  his  fellow  !  In  confusion, 
famine,  desolation,  regret  the  days  that  are  gone  ;  rueful  re- 
call them,  recall  us  with  them.  To  repentant  prayers  we  will 
not  be  deaf. 


ly  THE  sallj:  de  manege.  201 

So,  witli  dimmer  or  clearer  consciousness,  must  the  Eight 
Side  reason  and  act.  Au  inevitable  position  perhaps  ;  but  a 
most  false  one  for  them.  Evil,  be  thou  our  good  :  this  hence- 
forth must  virtually  be  their  prayer.  The  fiercer  the  effer- 
vescence grows,  the  sooner  will  it  pass  ;  for  after  all  it  is  but 
some  mad  effervesence  ;  the  World  is  solid,  and  cannot  dis 
solve. 

For  the  rest,  if  they  have  any  positive  industry  it  is  that  of 
plots,  and  backstairs  conclaves.  Plots  which  cannot  be  exe- 
cuted ;  which  are  mostly  theoretic  on  their  part ; — for  which 
nevertheless  this  and  the  other  practical  Sieur  Augeard,  Sieur 
Maillebois,  Sieur  Bonne  Savardin,  gets  into  trouble,  gets  im- 
prisoned, and  escapes  with  difficulty.  Nay,  there  is  a  poor 
practical  Chevalier  Favras  who,  not  without  some  passing  re- 
flex on  Monsieur  himself,  gets  hanged  for  them,  amid  loud 
uproar  of  the  world.  Poor  Favras,  he  keeps  dictating  his  last 
will  '  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville  through  the  whole  remainder  of  the 
day,'  a  weary  February  day  ;  offers  to  reveal  secrets,  if  they 
will  save  him  ;  handsomely  declines  since  they  will  not ;  then 
dies,  in  the  flare  of  torch-light,  with  politest  composure  ;  re- 
marking, rather  than  exclaiming,  with  outspread  hands : 
"People,  I  die  innocent;  pray  for  me."*  Poor  Favras; — 
type  of  so  much  that  has  prowled  indefatigable  over  France, 
in  days  now  ending  ;  and,  in  freer  field,  might  have  earned 
instead  of  prowling, — to  thee  it  is  no  theory  ! 

In  the  Senate-house  again,  the  attitude  of  the  Right  Side  is 
that  of  calm  unbelief.  Let  an  august  National  Assembly  make 
a  Fourth-of-August  Abolition  of  Feudality ;  declare  the  Clergy 
State-servants  who  shall  have  wages  ;  vote  Suspensive  Vetos, 
new  Law-Courts  ;  vote  or  decree  what  contested  thing  it  will ; 
have  it  responded  to  from  the  four  corners  of  France,  nay  get 
King's  Sanction,  and  what  other  Acceptance  were  conceivable, 
— the  Eight  Side,  as  we  find,  persists,  with  imperturbablest  te- 
nacity, in  considering,  and  ever  and  anon  shows  that  it  still 
considers,  all  these  so-called  Decrees  as  mere  temporary  whims, 
which  indeed  stand  on  paper,  but  in  practice  and  fact  are  not, 
and  cannot  be.  Figure  the  brass  head  of  an  Abbe  Maury 
*See  Deux  Amis  (iv.  c.  14,  7) ;— Hist.  Pari.  (vi.  384). 


2{)2  Till':  fi:ast  of  piki-js. 

flooding  fortli  Jesuitic  eloquence  in  this  sti'ain  ;  dusky  d'Es- 
premcnil,  Barrel  Mirabeau  (probably  in  liquor),  and  enough 
of  others,  cheering  him  from  the  Right ;  and,  for  examjile, 
with  what  visage  a  sea-green  Robespierre  eyes  him  from  the 
Left.  And  how  Sieyes  ineffably  sniifs  on  him,  or  does  not 
deign  to  sniff ;  and  how  the  Galleries  groan  in  spirit,  or  bark 
rabid  on  him  :  so  that  to  escape  the  Lanterne,  on  stepping 
forth,  he  needs  presence  of  mind,  and  a  j)air  of  pistols  in  his 
girdle  !     For  he  is  one  of  the  toughest  of  men. 

Here  indeed  becomes  notable  one  great  difference  between 
our  two  kind  of  civil  war  ;  between  the  modern  Ungual  or 
Parliamentary-logical  kind,  and  the  ancient,  or  manual  kind,  in 
the  steel  battle-field ; — much  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  former. 
In  the  manual  kind,  where  you  front  your  foe  with  drawn 
weapon,  one  right  stroke  is  final ;  for,  physically  si^eakiug, 
when  the  brains  are  out  the  man  does  honestly  die,  and  trouble 
you  no  more.  But  how  different  when  it  is  with  arguments 
you  fight !  Here  no  victory  yet  definable  can  be  considered 
as  final  Beat  him  down  with  Parliamentary  invective,  till 
sense  be  fled  ;  cut  him  in  two,  hanging  one  half  on  this  di- 
lemma-horn, the  other  on  that ;  blow  the  brains  or  thinking- 
faculty  quite  out  of  him  for  the  time  ;  it  kills  not ;  he  nillies 
and  revives  on  the  morrow  ;  to-morrow  he  repairs  his  golden- 
fires  !  The  thing  that  will  logically  extinguish  him  is  perhaps 
still  a  desideratum  in  Constitutional  civilization.  For  how,  till 
a  man  know,  in  some  measure,  at  what  point  he  becomes  logi- 
cally defunct,  can  Parliamentary  Business  be  carried  on,  and 
Talk  cease  or  slake  ? 

Doubtless  it  was  some  feeling  of  this  difficulty ;  and  the 
clear  insight  how  little  such  knowledge  yet  existed  in  the 
French  Nation,  new  in  the  Constitutional  career,  and  how  de- 
funct Aristocrats  would  continue  to  walk  for  unlimited  periods, 
as  Pcirtridge  the  Almanac-maker  did, — that  had  sunk  into  the 
deep  mind  of  People's-friend  Marat,  an  eminently  practical 
mind  ;  and  had  grown  there,  in  that  richest  putrescent  soil, 
into  the  most  original  plan  of  action  ever  submitted  to  a  Peo- 
ple. Not  yet  has  it  grown ;  but  it  has  germinated,  it  is  grow- 
ing ;  rooting  itself  into  Tartai-us,  branching  towards  Heaven ; 


IN  THE  SALLE  DE  MANEGE.  293 

the  second  season  hence  ^Te  sliall  see  ib  risen  out  of  the  bot- 
tomless Darkness,  full-grown,  into  disastrous  Twihght, — a 
Hemlock-tree,  great  as  the  world  ;  on  or  under  whose  boughs 
all  the  People's-friends  of  the  world  may  lodge.  'Two  hundred 
and  Sixty  thousand  Ai'istocrat  heads  : '  that  is  the  precisest 
calculation,  though  one  would  not  stand  on  a  few  hundreds  ; 
yet  we  never  rise  as  high  as  the  round  three  hundred  thou- 
sand. Shudder  at  it,  O  Peoj^le  ;  but  it  is  as  true  as  that  ye 
yourselves,  and  your  People's-friend,  are  ahve.  These  prating 
Senators  of  yours  hover  ineffectual  on  the  barren  letter,  and 
will  never  save  the  Kevolution.  A  Cassandra-Marat  cannot  do 
it,  with  his  single  shrunk  arm  ;  but  with  a  few  determined 
men  it  were  possible.  "  Give  me,"  said  the  People's-friend,  in 
his  cold  way,  when  young  Barbaroux,  once  his  pupil  in  a  course 
of  what  was  called  Optics;,  went  to  see  him,  "  Give  me  two  hun- 
"  dred  Naples  Bravoes,  armed  each  with  a  good  dirk,  and  a 
"  muft  on  his  left  arm  by  way  of  shield  :  with  them  I  will  trav- 
"crso  France,  and  accomplish  the  Kevolution." '■•  Nay,  bo 
grave,  young  Barbaroux  ;  for  thou  seest  there  is  no  jesting  in 
those  rheumy  eyes ;  in  that  soot-bleared  figure,  most  earnest 
of  created  things  ;  neither  indeed  is  thei-e  madness,  of  the 
strait-waistcoat  sort. 

Such  produce  shall  the  Time  ri^Den  in  cavernous  Marat,  the 
man  forbid  ;  living  in  Paris  cellars,  lone  as  fanatic  Anchorite 
ill  his  Thebaid  ;  say,  as  far-seen  Simon  on  his  Pillar, — taking 
peculiar  views  therefrom.  Patriots  may  smile  ;  and,  using 
him  as  bandog  now  to  be  muzzled,  now  to  bo  let  bark,  name 
him,  as  Desmoulins  does,  '  Maximum  of  Patriotism '  and 
'  Cassandra-Marat:'  but  were  it  not  singular  if  this  dirk-and- 
muff  plan  of  his  (with  superficial  modifications)  proved  to  be 
precisely  the  plan  adopted  ? 

After  this  manner,  in  these  circumstances,  do  august  Sena- 
tors regenerate  France.  Nay,  they  are,  in  very  deed,  believed 
to  be  regenerating  it ;  on  account  of  which  great  fact,  main 
fact  of  their  history,  the  wearied  eye  can  never  be  permitted 
wholly  to  ignore  them. 

But  looking  away  now  from  these  precincts  of  the  Tuileries, 
*  Mcmoires  de  Earbaroux  (Paris,  1822),  p  57. 


204:  THE  FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

where  Constitutional  Eoyalty,  let  Lafayette  water  it  as  he  will, 
languishes  too  like  a  cut  branch  ;  and  august  Senatoi's  are 
perhaps  at  bottom  only-  perfecting  their  '  theory  of  defective 
verbs,' — how  does  the  young  Eeality,  young  Sansculottism 
thrive  ?  The  attentive  observer  can  answer :  It  thrives  bravely ; 
putting  forth  new  buds  ;  expanding  the  old  buds  into  leaves, 
into  boughs.  Is  not  Fi-ench  Existence,  as  befoi-e,  most  pru- 
rient, aU  loosened,  most  nutrient  for  it?  Sansculottism  has 
the  property  of  growing  by  what  other  things  die  of  :  by  agi- 
tation, contention,  disarrangement ;  nay  in  a  word,  by  what  is 
the  symbol  and  fruit  of  all  these  :  Hunger. 

In  such  a  France  as  this,  Himger,  as  we  have  remarked,  can 
hardly  fail.  The  Provinces,  the  Southei-n  Cities  feel  it  in  their 
turn  ;  and  what  it  brings :  Exasj^eration,  preternatural  Suspi- 
cion. In  Paris  some  halcyon  days  of  abundance  followed  the 
Menadic  Insurrection,  with  its  Versailles  grain-carts,  and  re- 
covered Restorer  of  Liberty  ;  but  they  could  not  continue. 
The  month  is  still  October  when  famishing  Saiut-Antoine,  in 
a  moment  of  passion,  seizes  a  poor  Baker,  innocent  '  Franc^ois 
the  Baker;'*  and  Langs  him,  in  Constantinople  wise; — but 
even  this,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  does  not  cheapen  bread  ! 
Too  clear  it  is,  no  Royal  bounty,  no  Municipal  dexterity 
can  adequately  feed  Bastille-destroying  Paris.  "Wherefore, 
on  view  of  the  hanged  Baker,  Constitutionalism  in  sorrow 
and  anger  demands  'Lot  Marliale,'  a  land  of  Riot  Act; — 
and  indeed  gets  it,  most  readily,  almost  before  the  sun  goes 
down. 

This  is  that  famed  3Iartial  Laio,  \\4th  its  Red  Flag,  its  'I)ra- 
2yeaii  Bouge : '  in  virtue  of  which  IMayor  Bailly,  or  any  iNIayor, 
has  but  henceforth  to  hang  out  that  new  Orijiamme  of  his  ; 
then  to  read  or  mumble  something  about  the  King's  peace  ; 
and,  after  certain  pauses,  serve  any  undisjjersing  Assemblage 
with  musket-shot,  or  whatever  shot  will  disi:)erse  it.  A  decisive 
Law  ;  and  most  just  on  one  proviso :  that  aU  Patrollotism  be 
of  God,  and  all  mob-assembling  be  of  the  Devil : — otherwise 
not  so  just.  Mayor  Bailly,  be  unwiUing  to  use  it !  Hang  not 
Qut  that  new  Oriflamme,^ame  not  of  gold  but  of  the  want  of 
*  21st  October,  1789  (Monitcur,  No.  7G). 


THE  MUSTER.  295 

gold  !     The  tbrice-blessed  Revolution  is  done ;  thou  thinkest  ? 
If  so  it  will  be  well  with  thee. 

But  now  let  no  mortal  say  henceforth  that  an  august  Na- 
tional Assembly  wants  riot :  all  it  ever  wanted  was  riot  enough 
to  balance  Court-plotting  ;  all  it  now  wants,  of  Heaven  or  of 
Earth,  is  to  get  its  theory  of  defective  verbs  perfected. 


CHAPTEE  m. 

THE   MUSTER. 


With  Famine  and  a  Constitutional  theory  of  defective  verbs 
going  on,  all  other  excitement  is  conceivable.  A  universal 
shaking  and  sifting  of  French  Existence  this  is :  in  the  course 
of  which,  for  one  thing,  what  a  multitude  of  low-lying  figures 
are  sifted  to  the  top,  and  set  busily  to  work  there  ! 

Dogleech  Marat,  now  far-seen  as  Simon  Stylites,  we  al- 
ready know  ;  him  and  others,  raised  aloft.  The  mere  sain- 
jDle,  these,  of  what  is  coming,  of  what  continues  coming,  up- 
wards from  the  realm  of  Night  ; — Chaumette,  by  and  by 
Auaxagoras  Chaumette,  one  already  descries :  mellifluous  in 
street-groups  ;  not  now  a  sea-boy  on  the  high  and  giddy 
mast :  a  mellifluous  tribune  of  the  common  people,  with  long 
curling  locks,  on  hourne-sione  of  the  thoroughfares  ;  able 
sub-editor  too  ;  who  shall  rise, — to  the  very  gallows.  Clerk 
Tallien,  he  also  is  become  sub-editor  ;  shall  become  able- 
editor  ;  and  more.  BibHopolic  Momoro,  Typographic  Prud- 
homme,  see  new  trades  opening.  Collot  d'Herbois,  tearing 
a  passion  to  rags,  pauses  on  the  Thespian  boards  ;  listens, 
with  that  black  bushy  head,  to  the  sound  of  the  world's 
drama  :  shall  the  Mimetic  become  Eeal  ?  Did  ye  hiss  him, 
O  men  of  Lyons  ?  *     Better  had  ye  clapped ! 

Happy  now,  indeed,  for  all  manner  of  mimetic,  half-origi- 
nal men  !  Tumid  blustering,  with  more  or  less  of  sincerity, 
which  need  not  be  entirely  sincere,  yet  the  sincerer  the  bet- 
ter, is  like  to  go  far.  Shall  we  say,  the  Revolution-element 
w^orks  itself  rarer  and  rarer  ;  so  that  only  lighter  and  lighter 
*  Euzot:  Memoires  (Parla,  1S~3,  p.  90). 


296  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

bodies  -uill  float  in  it ;  till  at  last  the  mere  blown-bladder  ig 
your  only  swimmer  ?  Limitation  of  mind,  then  yehemence, 
promptitude,  audacity,  shall  all  be  available  ;  to  w-hich  add 
only  these  two  :  cunning  and  good  lungs.  Good  fortune 
must  be  presupposed.  Accordingly,  of  all  classes  the  rising 
one,  we  observe,  is  now  the  Attorney  class :  witness  Bazires, 
Carriers,  Fouquier-Tiuvilles,  Basoche-Captain  Bourdons  :  more 
than  enough.  Such  figures  shall  Night,  from  her  wonder- 
bearing  bosom,  emit  ;  swarm  after  swarm.  Of  another 
deeper  and  deepest  swarm,  not  yet  dawned  on  the  astonished 
eye  ;  of  pilfering  Candle-snuffers,  Thief-valets,  disfrocked 
Capuchins,  and  so  many  Huberts,  Henriots,  Eonsins,  Rossig- 
nols,  let  us,  as  long  as  possible,  forbear  speaking. 

Thus,  over  France,  all  stirs  that  has  what  the  Physiologists 
call  irritahilitii  in  it :  how  much  more  all  wherein  irritability 
has  perfected  itself  into  vitality  ;  into  actual  \ision,  and  force 
that  can  will !  All  stirs  ;  and  if  not  in  Paris,  flocks  thither. 
Great  and  greater  w-axes  President  Danton  in  his  Cordeliers 
Section  ;  his  rhetorical  tropes  are  all  '  gigantic  : '  energy 
flashes  from  his  black  brows,  menaces  in  his  athletic  figure, 
rolls  in  the  sound  of  his  voice  *  reverberating  from  the 
domes  ; '  this  man  also,  like  ]\Iirabeau,  has  a  natural  eye,  and 
begins  to  see  Avhithor  Constitutionalism  is  tending,  though 
with  a  wish  in  it  different  from  Mirabeau's. 

Remark,  on  the  other  hand,  how  General  Dumouriez  has 
quitted  Normandy  and  the  Cherbourg  Breakw\ater,  to  come — 
whither  we  may  guess.  It  is  his  second  or  even  third  trial 
at  Paris,  since  this  New  Era  began  ;  but  now  it  is  in  right 
earnest,  for  he  has  quitted  all  else.  Wiry,  elastic,  unwearied 
man  ;  whose  life  was  but  a  battle  and  a  march !  No,  not  a 
ci-eature  of  Choiseul's  ;  "the  creature  of  God  and  of  my 
sword," — he  fiercely  answered  in  old  days.  Overfalling  Cor- 
sican  batteries,  in  the  deadly  firehail  ;  wriggling  invincible 
from  under  his  horse,  at  Closterkamp  of  the  Netherlands, 
though  tethered  ^\dth  'crushed  stirrup-iron  and  nineteen 
wounds  ; '  tough,  minatory,  standing  at  bay,  as  forlorn  hope, 
on  the  skirts  of  Poland  ;  intriguing,  battling  in  cabinet  and 
field  ;  I'oaming  far  out,  obscure,  as  King's  spial,  or  sitting 


THE  MUSTER.  297 

sealed  np,  enclianted  in  Bastille  •  fencing,  pamphleteering, 
scheming  and  struggling  from  the  very  birth  of  him,* — the 
man  has  come  th\is  far.  How  repressed,  how  irrepressible  ! 
Like  some  incarnate  sj^irit  in  prison,  which  indeed  he  ivas  ; 
hewing  on  granite  walls  for  deliverance  :  striking  fire  flashes 
from  them.  And  now  has  the  general  earthquake  rent  his 
cavern  too  ?  Twenty  years  younger,  what  might  he  not  have 
done  !  But  his  hair  has  a  shade  of  gray  ;  his  way  of  thought 
is  all  fixed,  military.  He  can  groio  no  further,  and  the  new 
world  is  in  such  growth.  We  will  name  him,  on  the  whole, 
one  of  Heaven's  Swiss ;  without  faith  ;  wanting  above  all 
things  work,  work  on  any  side.  Work  also  is  appointed  him  ; 
and  he  will  do  it. 

Not  from  over  France  only  are  the  unrestful  flocking  to- 
wards Paris ;  but  from  all  sides  of  Europe.  Where  the  car- 
case is  thither  will  the  eagles  gather.  Think  how  man}'  a 
Sj)anish  Guzman,  Martinico  Fournier  named  'Fournier  I'Avie- 
ricain,'  Engineer  IMiranda  from  the  very  Andes,  were  flocking 
or  had  flocked.  Walloon  Pereyra  might  boast  of  the  stran- 
gest parentage  :  him,  they  say,  Prince  Kaunitz  the  Diploma- 
tist heedlessly  dropped  ;  like  ostrich-egg,  to  be  hatched  of 
Chance, — into  an  ostrich-ea^;?- .'  Jewish  or  German  Freys  do 
business  in  the  great  Cesspool  of  Agio  ;  which  Cesspool  this 
Assignat-Siat  has  quickened,  into  a  Mother  of  dead  dogs. 
Swiss  Cla^iL're  could  found  no  Sociniau  Genevese  Colony  in 
Ireland  ;  but  he  paused,  years  ago,  projDhetic,  before  the 
Minister's  Hotel  at  Paris ;  and  said,  it  was  borne  on  his  mind 
that  he  one  day  was  to  be  Minister,  and  laughed,  f  Swiss 
Pachc,  on  the  other  hand,  sits  sleekheaded,  frugal ;  the  won- 
der of  his  own  alley,  and  even  of  neighbouring  ones,  for  hu- 
mility of  mind,  and  a  thought  deeper  than  most  men's :  sit 
there,  Tartuffe,  till  wanted  !  Ye  Italian  Dufoumys,  Flemish 
Prolys,  flit  hither  all  ye  bipeds  of  prey  !  Come  whosesoever 
head  is  hot ;  thou  of  mind  imgoverticd,  be  it  chaos  as  of  un- 
development  or  chaos  as  of  ruin  ;  the  man  who  cannot  get 

*  Dumonriez  :  Memoires,  i   28,  etc. 
fDmno::t:  Soiwenirs  sur  riiiabcan    p.  o99. 


298  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

known,  the  man  who  is  too  well  known  ;  if  thou  have  any 
vendible  faculty,  nay,  if  thou  have  but  edacity  and  loquacity, 
come !  They  come  :  with  hot  unutterabilities  in  then-  heart ; 
as  Pilgrims  towards  a  miraculous  shrine.  Nay,  how  many 
come  as  vacant  Strollers,  aimless,  of  whom  Europe  is  full, 
merely  towards  somethinrj  I  For  benighted  fowls,  when  you 
beat  their  bushes,  rush  towards  any  light.  Thus  Frederick 
Baron  Trenck  too  is  here  ;  mazed,  purblind,  fi'om  the  cells  of 
Magdeburg  ;  Minotauric  cells,  and  his  Ariadne  lost !  Singu- 
lar to  say,  Trenck,  in  these  years,  sells  wine  ;  not  indeed  in 
bottle,  but  in  wood. 

Nor  is  our  England  without  her  missionaries.  She  has  her 
life-saving  Needham  ;  to  whom  was  solemnly  presented  a 
'civic  sword,' — long  since  rusted  into  uothiugness.  Her 
Paine  :  rebellious  Staymaker  ;  unkempt ;  who  feels  that  he,  a 
single  Needlemau,  did,  by  his  Common  Seme  Pamphlet,  free 
America  ;  that  he  can  and  will  free  all  this  World  ;  perhaps 
even  the  other.  Price-Stanhope  Constitutional  Association 
sends  over  to  congi-atulate  ;  *  welcomed  by  National  Assem- 
bly, though  they  are  but  a  Loudon  Club  ;  whom  Burke  and 
Toryism  e^^e  askance. 

On  thee  too,  for  country's  sake,  O  Chevalier  John  Paul,  be 
a  word  spent,  or  misspent !  In  faded  naval  uniform,  Paul 
Jones  lingers  visible  here  ;  like  a  wine-skin  from  which  the 
wine  is  all  drawn.  Like  the  ghost  of  himself !  Low  is  his 
once  loud  bruit ;  scarcely  audible,  save,  with  extreme  tedium, 
in  ministerial  ante-chambers  ;  in  this  or  the  other  charitable 
dining-room,  mindful  of  the  past.  What  changes  ;  culminat- 
ings  and  declinings !  Not  now,  poor  Paul,  thou  lookest 
wistful  over  the  Solway  brine,  by  the  foot  of  native  Criffel, 
into  blue  mountainous  Cumberland,  into  blue  Infinitude  ; 
environed  with  thi'ift,  with  humble  friendliness  ;  thyself, 
young  fool,  longing  to  be  aloft  from  it,  or  even  to  be  away 
from  it.  Yes,  beyond  that  sapphire  Promontory,  which  men 
narne  St.  Bees,  which  is  not  sapphire  either,  but  dull  sand- 
stone, when  one  gets  close  to  it,  there  is  a  world.  \Miich 
woi-ld  thou  too  shalt  taste  of ! — From  yonder  TMiite  Haven 
*  Moniteur,  10  Xovembre,  7  Decembre,  1789. 


THE  MUSTER.  299 

rise  liis  smoke-clouds  ;  ominous  though  ineffectual.  Proud 
Forth  quakes  at  his  bellying  sails  ;  had  not  the  wind  sud- 
denly shifted.  Flam  borough  reapers,  homegoing,  pause  on 
the  hill-side  :  for  what  sulphur-cloud  is  that  that  defaces  the 
sleek  sea  ;  sulphur-cloud  spitting  streaks  of  fire  ?  A  sea  cock- 
fight it  is,  and  of  the  hottest  ;  where  British  Serapis  and 
French  American  Bon  Homme  Richard  do  lash  and  throttle 
each  other,  in  their  fashion  ;  and  lo  the  desperate  valour 
lias  suffocated  the  deliberate,  and  Paul  Jones  too  is  of  the 
Kings  of  the  Sea  ! 

The  Euxine,  the  Meotian  waters  felt  thee  next,  and  long- 
skirted  Turks,  0  Paul*;  and  thy  fiery  soul  has  wasted  itself  in 
thousand  contradictions  ; — to  no  purpose.  For,  in  far  lands, 
with  scarlet  Nassau-Siegens,  with  sinful  Imperial  Catharines, 
is  not  the  heart  broken,  even  as  at  home  with  the  mean? 
Poor  Paul !  hunger  and  dispiritment  track  thy  sinking  foot- 
steps :  once  or  at  most  twice,  in  this  Revolution  tumult  the 
figure  of  thee  emerges  ;  mute,  ghost-like,  as  '  with  stars  dim- 
twinkling  through.'  And  then,  when  the  light  is  gone  quite 
out,  a  National  Legislature  grants  '  ceremonial  funeral ! '  As 
good  had  been  the  natural  Presbyterian  Kirk- bell,  and  six  feet 
of  Scottish  earth,  among  the  dust  of  thy  loved  ones. — Such 
world  lay  beyond  the  Promontory  of  St  Bees.  Such  is  the 
life  of  sinful  mankind  here  beloAV. 

But  of  all  strangers,  far  the  notablest  for  us  is  Baron  Jean 
Baptiste  de  Clootz  ;  or,  dropping  baptisms  and  feudalisms, 
World-Citizen  Anacharsis  Clootz,  from  Cleves.  Him  mark, 
judicious  Reader.  Thou  hast  known  his  Uncle,  sharp- sighted, 
thorough-going  Cornelius  de  Pauw,  who  mercilessly  cuts 
down  cherished  illusions  ;  and  of  the  finest  antique  Sj^artans, 
will  make  mere  modern  cutthroat  Mainots.*  The  like  stuff 
is  in  Anacharsis  :  hot  metal  ;  full  of  scorise,  which  should  and 
could  have  been  smelted  out,  but  which  will  not.  He  has 
wandered  over  this  terraqueous  Planet  ;  seeking,  one  may 
saj',  the  Paradise  we  lost  long  ago.  He  has  seen  English 
Burke  ;  has  been  seen  of  the  Portugal  Inquisition  ;  has 
*  Te  Tauw,  Fxclierchcs  svr  Us  Gircr-,  See. 


300  TUB  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

roamed,  and  fought,  and  written  ;  is  writing,  among  other 
things,  'Evidences  of  the  MaJtovietan  Eeligion.'  But  now, 
like  his  Scythian  adoj)tive  godfather,  he  tinds  himself  in  the 
Paris  Athens  ;  sui*ely,  at  last,  the  haven  of  his  soul.  A  dash- 
ing man,  beloved  at  Patriotic  dinner-tables  ;  with  gayet}',  nay 
with  humour  ;  headlong,  trenchant,  of  free  purse  ;  in  suitable 
costume  ;  though  what  mortal  ever  more  desjiised  costumes? 
Under  all  costumes  Anacharsis  seeks  the  man  ;  not  Stylites 
Marat  will  more  freely  trample  costumes,  if  they  hold  no 
man.  This  is  the  faith  of  Anacharsis  :  That  there  is  a  Para- 
dise discoverable  ;  that  all  costumes  ought  to  hold  men.  O 
Anacharsis,  it  is  a  headlong,  swift-goiug  faith.  Mounted 
thereon,  meseems,  thou  art  bound  hastily  for  the  City  of  No- 
lohere  ;  and  wilt  arrire  !  At  best,  we  may  say,  arrive  in  good 
riding  attitude  ;  which  indeed  is  something. 

So  many  new  persons,  and  new  things,  have  come  to  occupy 
this  France.  Her  old  Speech  and  Thought,  and  Activity 
which  springs  from  these,  are  all  changing :  fermenting 
towards  unknown  issues.  To  the  dullest  peasant,  as  he  sits 
sluglish,  over-toiled  by  his  evening  hearth,  one  idea  has  come  ; 
that  of  Chateaus  burnt ;  of  Chateaus  combustible.  How  al- 
tered all  Coffee-houses,  in  Px'ovince  or  CajDital!  The  Antre  de 
Procope  has  now  other  questions  than  the  Three  Stagyrite 
Unities  to  settle  ;  not  theatre-controversies,  but  a  world-con- 
troversy :  there,  in  the  ancient  pigtail  mode,  or  with  modern 
Brutus'  heads,  do  well-frizzed  logicians  hold  hubbub,  and 
Chaos  umpire  sits.  The  ever-enduring  melody  of  Paris  Sa- 
loons has  got  a  new  ground-tone  :  ever-enduring  ;  which  has 
been  heard,  and  by  the  listening  Heaven  too,  since  Julian  the 
Apostate's  time  and  earlier  ;  mad  nov/  as  formerly. 

Ex-Censor  Suard,  T^.r -Censor,  for  we  have  freedom  of  the 
Pi-ess  ;  he  may  be  seen  there  ;  impartial,  even  neutral.  Ty- 
rant Grimm  rolls  large  eyes,  over  a  questionable  coming 
Time.  Atheist  Naigeon,  beloved-disciple  of  Diderot,  crows, 
in  his  small  difficult  way,  heralding  glad  dawn.*     But  on  the 

*  Naigeon  :  Adresse  a  rAssemble  Xatioiiale  (Faris,  t790\  sur  la  li- 
bertl  dc?  of  iiiioiis. 


J0UR2s\iLISM.  301 

other  hand  how  many  Morellets,  Marmontels,  who  haJ  set 
all  their  life  hatching  Philosophe  eggs,  cackle  now,  in  a  state 
bordering  on  distraction,  at  the  brood  they  have  brought 
out.*  It  was  so  delightful  to  have  one's  Philosophe  Theorem 
demonstrated,  crowned  in  the  saloons  :  and  now  an  infatuated 
people  will  not  continue  speculative,  but  have  Practice  ? 

There  also  observe  Preceptress  Genlis,  or  Sillery,  or  Sil- 
lery-Genlis, — for  our  husband  is  both  Count  and  Marquis,  and 
we  have  more  than  one  title.  Pretentious,  frothy  ;  a  puritan 
yet  creedless  ;  darkening  counsel  by  words  without  wisdom  ! 
For,  it  is  in  that  thin  element  of  the  Ssntimentalist  and  Dis- 
tinguished-Female that  Sillery-Genlis  works  ;  she  would  gladly 
be  sincere,  yet  can  grow  no  sincerer  than  sincere-cant :  sin- 
cerecant  of  many  forms,  ending  in  the  devotional  form.  For 
the  present,  on  a  neck  still  of  moderate  whiteness,  she  wears  as 
jewel  a  miniature  Bastille,  cut  on  mere  sandstone,  but  then 
actual  Bastille  sandstone.  M.  le  Marquis  is  one  of  d'Orleans's 
errand  men  ;  in  National  Assembly,  and  elsewhere.  Madame, 
for  her  part,  trains  up  a  youthful  d'Orleans  generation  in  what 
superfinest  morality  one  can  ;  gives  meanwhile  rather  enig- 
matic account  of  fair  Mademoiselle  Pamela,  the  Daughter 
whom  she  has  adopted.  Thus  she,  in  Palais  Royal  saloon  ; — 
whither,  we  remark,  d^Orleans  himself,  si:»ite  of  Lafayette,  has 
returned  from  that  English  '  mission  '  of  his  :  surely  no  pleas- 
ant mission  :  for  the  English  would  not  speak  to  him  ;  and 
Saint  Hannah  More  of  England,  so  unlike  Saint  Sillery-Genlis 
of  France,  saw  him  shunne  1,  in  Vauxhall  Gardens,  like  one 
pest-struck,  f  and  his  red-blue  impassive  visage  waxing  hardly 
a  shade  bluer. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

JOUENALISM. 

As  for  Constitutionalism,   with  its  National  Guards,  it  is 
doing  what  it  can  ;  and  lias  enough  to  do  :  it  must,  as  ever, 
with  one  hand  wave  persuasively,  repressing  Patriotism  ;  and 
*  See  Marmontel,  Memoires,  passim  ;  Morellet,  Memoires,  &c. 
f  Hannah  More's  Life  and  Correspondence,  ii.  c.  5. 


302  THE  FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

keep  the  other  clenched  to  menace  Royalist  plotters.  |  !j-.oil 
delicate  task  ;  recjuiring  tact. 

Thus,  if  People's-frieud  Marat  has  to-day  his  writ  cl  *  prka 
de  corps,  or  seizure  of  body,'  served  on  him,  and  dives  out  of 
sight,  to  morrow  he  is  left  at  large  ;  or  is  even  encoxtrxfred,  aa 
a  sort  of  bandog  whose  baying  may  be  useful.  X^resident 
Danton,  in  open  Hall,  with  reverberating  voice,  d<',rkres  that, 
in  a  case  like  Marat's,  "force  may  be  resii:.t<5i'i  by  force,* 
Whereupon  the  Chatelet  serves  Danton  also  \A.\h  a  writ  ;^ 
which  however,  as  the  whole  Cordeliers  Diotiict  responds  ta 
it,  what  Constable  will  be  prompt  to  execute?  Twice  more, 
on  new  occasions,  does  the  Chatelet  lar.uca  its  wi-it ;  an^i 
twice  more  in  vain  ;  the  body  of  Danton  cjr,nol,  be  seized  by 
Chatelet ;  he  unseized,  should  he  even  fly  for  s,  season,  sha'i 
behold  the  Chatelet  itself  flung  into  limbo. 

Municipality  and  Brissot,  meamvhile,  uvd  far  on  with  their 
Municipal  Constitution.  The  Sixty  D.utrici^  shall  become 
Forty-eight  Sections  ;  much  shall  be  adjusted,  and  Paris  have 
its  Constitution.  A  Constitution  wholly  Elective  ;  as  indeed 
all  French  Government  shall  and  musL  be.  And  yet,  one 
fatal  element  has  been  introduced  :  that  of  ciioyen  actif.  No 
man  who  does  not  pay  the  marc  d'arfjent,  or  yeai'ly  tax  equal 
to  three  days'  labour,  shall  be  other  than  apassu-e  citizen: 
not  the  shghtest  vote  for  him  ;  were  he  actinr/,  all  the  year 
round,  with  sledge  hammer,  with  forest-JeveUing  axe  !  Un- 
heard of !  cry  Patriot  Journals.  Yes,  truly,  my  Patriot  Friends, 
if  Liberty,  the  passion  and  prayer  of  all  men's  souls,  means 
liberty  to  send  your  fifty-thousandth  part  of  a  new  Tongue- 
fencer  into  National  Debating-club,  then,  be  the  gods  'fat- 
ness, ye  are  hardly  entreated.  Oh,  if  in  National  I'alaver  (as 
the  Africans  name  it),  such  blessedness  is  verily  found,  what 
tyrant  would  deny  it  to  Sou  of  Adam  ?  Naj-,  might,  there  not 
be  a  Female  Parliament  too,  Avith  '  screams  from  the  Disposi- 
tion benches,'  and  'the  honourable  ]Member  borne  out  in 
hysterics '  ?  To  a  Children's  Parhament  would  I  gladly  con- 
sent ;  or  even  lower  if  ye  wished  it.  Beloved  Brothers,  Lib- 
erty, one  may  fear,  is  actually,  as  the  ancient  wise  men  said 
of  Heaven.     On  this  Earth,  where,  thinks  the  enlightened 


JOURNALISM.  303 

public,  did  a  brave  little  Dame  de  Staal  (not  Necker's  Daugh- 
ter, but  a  far  shrewder  than  she)  find  the  nearest  approach  to 
Liberty  ?  After  mature  computation,  cool  as  Dilworth's,  her 
answer  is.  In  the  Uaatille.*  "  Of  Heaven  ? "  answer  many, 
ashing.  Wo  that  they  should  ask  ;  for  that  is  the  very  mis- 
ery !  "Of  Heaven "  means  much  ;  share  in  the  National 
Palaver  it  may,  or  may  as  probably  not  mean. 

One  Sansculottic  bough  that  cannot  fail  to  flourish  is  Jour- 
nalism. The  voice  of  the  People  being  the  voice  of  God,  shall 
not  such  divine  voice  make  itself  heard  ?  To  the  ends  of 
France  ;  and  in  as  many  dialects  as  when  ihe  first  gi'eat  Babel 
was  to  be  built !  Some  loud  as  the  lion  ;  some  small  as  the 
sucking  dove.  Mirabeau  himself  has  his  instructive  Journal 
or  Journals,  with  Geneva  hodmen  working  in  them  ;  and 
withal  has  quarrels  enough  with  Dame  le  Jay,  his  Female 
Bookseller,  so  ultra-complaint  otherwise,  f 

King's-friend  Royou  still  prints  himself.  Barrere  sheds 
tears  of  loyal  sensibility  in  Break  of  Day  Journal,  though  with 
declining  sale.  But  why  is  Fr<iron  so  hot,  democratic  ;  Fre- 
ron,  the  King's-friend's  Nephew?  He  has  it  by  kind,  that 
heat  of  his  :  loasp  Frc-ron  begot  him  ;  Voltaire's  Frelon  ;  who 
fought,  stinging,  while  sting  and  poison-bag  were  left,  were 
it  only  as  Eeviewer,  and  over  Printed  Waste-Paper.  Con- 
stant, illuminative,  as  the  nightly  lamplighter,  issues  the  use- 
ful Moniteur,  for  it  is  now  become  diurnal :  with  facts  and 
few  commentaries  ;  official,  safe  in  the  middle  ; — its  able  Edi- 
tors sunk  long  since,  recoverably  or  irrecoverably,  in  deep 
darkness.  Acid  Loustalot,  with  his  'vigour,'  as  of  young 
sloes,  shall  never  ripen,  but  die  untimely  :  his  Prudhomme, 
however,  wiU  not  let  that  Revolutions  de  Paris  die  ;  but  edit  it 
himself,  with  much  else, — dull-blustering  Printer  though  he  be. 

Of  Cassandra-Marat  we  have  spoken  often  ;  yet  the  most 
surprising  truth  remains  to  be  spoken  :  that  he  actually  does 
not  want  sense  ;  but,  with  croaking  gelid  throat,  croaks  out 
masses  of  the  truth,  on  sevei'al  things.  Nay,  sometimes  one 
might  almost  fancy  he  had  a  perception  of  humour,  and  were 

*  De  Staal :  Memoires  (Paris,  1821),  i.  169-28a 
f  Dumont :  Souvenirs,  G. 


304:  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

laughing  a  little,  far  down  iu  Lis  inner  man.  Caraille  is  wit» 
tier  than  ever,  and  more  outspoken,  cynical ;  yet  sunny  as 
ever.  A  light  melodious  creature;  'born,'  as  he  shall  yet  say 
with  bitter  tears,  '  to  write  verses  ; '  light  Apollo,  so  clear, 
soft-lucent,  in  this  war  of  the  Titans,  wherein  he  shall  not 
conquer ! 

Folded  and  hawked  NewsjDapers  exist  in  all  countries  ;  but, 
iu  such  a  Journalistic  element  as  this  of  France,  other  and 
stranger  sorts  ai'e  to  be  anticipated.  What  says  the  English 
reader  to  a  Journal  Affiche,,  Placard  Journal ;  legible  to  him 
that  has  no  hahpenny  ;  in  bright  prismatic  colours,  calling 
the  eye  from  afar?  Such,  in  the  coming  months,  as  Patriot 
Associations,  public  and  private,  advance,  and  can  subscribe 
funds,  shall  plenteously  hang  themselves'  out:  leaves,  limed 
leaves,  to  catch  what  they  can  !  The  very  Government  shall 
have  its  Pasted  Joui-nal ;  Louvet,  busy  yet  with  a  new  '  charm- 
ing romance,'  shall  write  Sentinelled  and  post  them  with  ef- 
fect ;  nay,  Bertrand  de  Moleville,  in  his  extremity,  shall  still 
more  cunningly  try  it.*  Great  is  Journalism.  Is  not  eveiy 
Able  Editor  a  Ruler  of  the  World,  being  a  persuader  of  it : 
though  self-elected,  yet  sanctioned,  by  the  sale  of  his  Num- 
bers ?  Whom  indeed  the  world  has  the  readiest  method  of 
deposing,  should  need  be  :  that  of  merelj^  doing  nothing  to 
him  ;  which  ends  iu  starvation. 

Nor  esteem  it  small  what  those  Bill-stickei-s  had  to  do  in 
aris :  above  Three-score  of  them :  all  with  their  crosspoles, 
haversacks,  pastepots ;  nay,  with  leaden  badges,  for  the  Mu- 
nicipality licenses  them.  A  Sacred  College,  properly  of 
World-rulers'  Heralds,  though  not  respected  as  such,  in  an 
Era  still  incipient  and  raw.  They  made  the  walls  of  Pariia 
didactic,  suasive,  with  an  ever-fresh  Periodical  Literature, 
wherein  he  that  ran  might  read  :  Placard  Journals,  Placard 
Lampoons,  Municipal  Ordinances,  Eoyal  Proclamations ;  the 
whole  other  or  vulgar  Placard-department  superadded, — or 
omitted  from  contempt !  What  unutterable  things  the  stone- 
walls spoke,  during  these  five  years !  But  it  is  all  gone  ;  To- 
day swallowing  Yesterday,  and  then  being  in  its  turn  swal- 
*AS'et' Bertraiid-Moleville:  Mcmoires,  ii.  100,  &c. 


JOURNALISM.  305 

lowed  of  To-morrow,  even  as  Speecli  ever  is.  Nay  what,  O 
thou  immortal  Man  of  Letters,  is  writing  itself  but  Speech 
conserved  for  a  time  ?  The  Placard  Journal  conserved  it  for 
one  day  ;  some  Books  conserve  it  for  the  matter  of  ten  years  : 
nay,  some  for  three  thousand  :  but  what  then  ?  Why,  then, 
the  years  being  all  run,  it  also  dies,  and  the  world  is  rid  of  it. 
Oh,  were  there  not  a  spirit  in  the  word  of  man,  as  in  man 
himself,  that  survived  the  audible  bodied  word,  and  tended 
either  Godward,  or  else  Deviiward  for-evermore,  why  should 
he  trouble  himself  much  with  the  truth  of  it,  or  the  falsehood 
of  it,  except  for  commercial  purposes  ?  His  immortality  in- 
deed, and  whether  it  shall  last  half  a  lifetime,  or  a  hfetime 
and  half ;  is  not  that  a  very  considerable  thing  ?  Immortality, 
mortality : — there  were  certain  runaways  Avhom  Fritz  the 
Great  bullied  back  into  the  battle  with  a:  '' E — ,  ivollt  ihr 
"  eioig  lehen,  Unprintable  Offscouring  of  Scoundrels,  would  ye 
"  live  forever  ?  " 

This  is  the  Communication  of  Thought ;  how  happy  when 
there  is  any  Thought  to  communicate  !  Neither  let  the  sim- 
pler old  methods  be  neglected,  in  their  sphere.  The  Palais- 
Eoyal  Tent,  a  tyrannous  Patrollotism  has  removed  ;  but  can 
it  remove  the  lungs  of  man  ?  Anaxagoras  Chaumette  we  saw 
mounted  on  bourne-stones,  while  Tallieu  worked  sedentary  at 
the  subeditorial  desk.  In  any  corner  of  the  civilised  world,  a 
tub  can  be  inverted,  and  an  articulate-speaking  bij)ed  mount 
tliereon.  Na}',  with  contrivance,  a  portable  trestle,  or  folding- 
stool,  can  be  procured,  for  love  or  money  ;  this  the  perijjatetic 
Orator  can  take  in  his  hand,  and,  driven  out  here,  set  it  up 
again  there  :  saying  mildly,  with  a  Sage  Bias,  Omnia  mea  me^ 
cum  porta. 

Such  is  Journalism,  hawked,  pasted,  spoken.  How  changed 
since  One  old  Metra  walked  this  same  Tuileries  Garden,  in 
gilt  cocked  hat,  with  Journal  at  his  nose,  or  held  loose-folded 
behind  his  back  ;  and  was  a  notability  of  Paris,  '  Metra  the 
Newsman  ; '  *  and  Louis  himself  was  wont  to  say  :  Qu'en  dit 
Metra  ?  Since  the  first  Venetian  News-sheet  was  sold  for  a  gazza, 
or  farthing,  and  named  Gazette  !  We  live  in  a  fertile  world. 
*  Dulaure,  Hisloire  cle  Paris  (viii.  483) ;  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  &c.- 
VoL.  I.  -20 


3UG  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 


CHxiPTER  V. 

CXUBBISM. 

Where  the  heart  is  full,  it  seeks,  for  a  thousand  reasons,  in 
a  iliousaud  ways,  to  impart  itself.  How  sweet,  indispensable, 
iti  saeli  cases,  is  fellowship  ;  soul  mystically  strengthening 
soul !  The  meditative  Germans,  some  think,  have  been  of 
opinion  that  Enthusiasm  in  general  means  simply  excessive 
Congregating — Schwurmerey,  or  Swarming.  At  any  rate,  do 
we  not  see  glimmering  half-red  embers,  if  laid  together,  get 
into  the  brightest  white  glow  ? 

In  such  a  France,  gregarious  Eeunions  will  needs  multiply, 
intensify  ;  Fi'ench  Life  will  step  out  of  doors,  and,  from  domes- 
tic, become  a  public  Club  Life.  Old  Clubs,  which  already 
germinated,  grow  and  flourish  ;  new  everywhere  bud  forth. 
It  is  the  sure  symptom  of  Social  Unrest :  in  such  way,  most 
infallibly  of  all,  docs  Social  Unrest  exhibit  itself  ;  find  solace- 
ment,  and  also  nutriment.  In  eveiy  French  head  there  hangs 
now,  Avhetlier  for  teiTor  or  for  hope,  some  prophetic  picture  of 
a  New  France  :  prophecy  which  brings,  nay  which  almost  is, 
its  own  fulfilment ;  and  in  all  ways,  consciously  and  uncon- 
sciously, works  towards  that. 

Observe,  moreover,  how  the  Aggregative  Principle,  let  it  be 
but  deep  enough,  goes  on  aggregating,  and  this  even  in  a  geo- 
metrical progression  ;  how  when  the  whole  world,  in  such  a 
jDlastic  time,  is  forming  itself  into  Clubs,  some  One  Club,  the 
strongest  or  luckiest,  shall  by  friendly  attracting,  by  victorious 
compelling,  grow  ever  stronger,  till  it  become  immeasurably 
strong  ;  and  all  the  others,  with  their  strength,  be  either  lov- 
ingly absorbed  into  it,  or  hostilely  abolished  by  it.  This  if  the 
Club-spirit  is  universal  ;  if  the  time  is  plastic.  Pkistic  enough 
is  the  time,  universal  the  Club-spirit ;  such  an  all-absorbing, 
paramount  One  Club  cannot  be  wanting. 

AVhat  a  progress,  since  the  first  salient-point  of  the  Breton 
Committee  !  It  worked  long  in  secret,  not  languidly  ;  it  has 
come  with  the  National  Assemblv  to  Pcuis  ;  calls  itself  Club  ; 


CLUBBISM.  SUr 

calls  itself,  in  imitation,  as  is  thought,  of  those  generous  Price- 
Stanhope  English  who  sent  over  to  congratulate,  French  Revo- 
lution Club  ;  but  soon,  with  more  originality.  Club  of  Friends 
of  the  Constitution.  Moreover  it  has  leased  for  itself,  at  a  fair 
rent,  the  Hall  of  the  Jacobins'  Convent,  one  of  our  '  super- 
fluous edifices  ; '  and  does  therefrom  now,  in  these  spring 
months,  begin  shining  out  on  an  admiring  Paris.  And  so,  by- 
degrees,  under  the  shorter  popular  title  of  Jacobins  Club,  it 
shall  become  memorable  to  all  times  and  lands.  Glance  into 
the  interior  :  strongly  yet  modestly  benched  and  seated  ;  as 
many  as  Thirteen  Hundred  chosen  Patriots  ;  Assembly  Mem- 
bers not  a  few.  Barnave,  the  two  Lameths  are  seen  there  ; 
occasionally  Mirabeau,  perpetually  Robespierre  ;  also  the  fer- 
ret-visage of  Fouquier-Tinville  with  other  attorneys  ;  Anachar- 
sis  of  Prussian  Scythia,  and  miscellaneous  Patriots, — though 
all  is  yet  in  the  most  perfectly  clean  washed  state  ;  decent,  nay, 
dignified.  President  on  platform,  President's  bell,  are  not 
wanting  ;  oratorical  Tribune  high-raised  ;  nor  strangers'  gal- 
leries, wherein  also  sit  women.  Has  any  French  Antiquarian 
Society  preserved  that  written  Lease  of  the  Jacobins  Convent 
Hall  ?  Or  was  it,  unluckier  even  than  Magna  Charta,  clijot  by 
sacrilegious  Tailors  ?    Universal  History  is  not  indifferent  to  it. 

These  Friends  of  the  Constitution  have  met  mainly,  as 
their  name  may  foreshadow,  to  look  after  Elections  when  an 
Election  comes,  and  pi'ocure  fit  men  :  but  Hkewise  to  consult 
generally  that  the  Commonweal  take  no  damage  ;  one  as  yet 
sees  not  how.  For  indeed  let  two  or  three  gather  together 
anywhere,  if  it  be  not  in  Church,  where  all  are  bound  to  the 
passive  state  ;  no  mortal  can  say  accurately,  themselves  as 
little  as  any,  for  ivhat  they  are  gathered.  How  often  has  the 
broached  barrel  proved  not  to  be  for  joy  and  heart-effusion, 
but  for  duel  and  head-breakage  ;  and  the  promised  feast  be- 
come a  Feast  of  the  Lapithte  !  This  Jacobins  Club,  which  at 
first  shone  resplendent,  and  was  thought  to  be  a  new  celestial 
Sun  for  enlightening  the  Nations,  had,  as  things  all  have,  to 
work  through  its  appointed  phases  :  it  burned  luifortunately 
more   and   more   lurid,    more   sulphurous,  distracted  ; — and 


308  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

swam  at  last,  througli  the  astonished  Heaven,  like  a  Tartarean 
Portent,  and  lurid-burning  Prison  of  Spirits  in  Pain. 

Its  style  of  eloquence  ?  Rejoice,  Reader,  that  thou  know- 
est  it  not,  that  thou  canst  never  perfectly  know.  The  Jacobms 
published  a  Jom-nal  of  Debates,  w^here  they  that  have  the 
heart  may  examine :  impassioned,  dull-droning  Patriotic- 
eloquence  ;  implacable,  unfertile,— save  for  Destruction,  which 
was  indeed  its  work  :  most  wearisome  though  most  deadly. 
Be  thankful  that  Oblivion  covers  so  much  ;  that  all  carrion  is 
by  and  by  bui-ied  in  the  green  Earth's  bosom,  and  even  makes 
her  grow  the  greener.  The  Jacobins  ai-e  buried  ;  but  their 
work  is  not ;  it  continues  '  making  the  tour  of  the  world,'  as 
it  can.  It  might  be  seen  lately,  for  instance,  with  bared 
bosom  and  death-defiant  eye,  as  far  on  as  Greek  Missolonghi ; 
and,  strange  enough,  old  slumbermg  Hellas  was  resuscitated, 
into  somnambulism  which  will  become  clear  wakefulness,  by  a 
voice  from  the  Rue  St.  Honorc  !  All  dies,  as  we  often  say  ; 
except  the  spirit  of  man,  of  what  man  does.  Thus  has  not 
the  vei-y  House  of  the  Jacobins  vanished :  scarcely  lingering 
in  a  few  old  men's  memories?  The  St.  Honorc  Market  has 
brushed  it  away,  and  now  where  dull-di-oning  eloquence,  hke 
a  Trump  of  Doom,  once  shook  the  world,  there  is  pacific  chaf- 
fermg  for  poultry  and  gi-eens.  The  sacred  National  Assembly 
Hall  itself  has  become  common  ground  ;  President's  platform 
permeable  to  wain  and  dustcart ;  for  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  runs 
there.  Verih%  at  Cockcrow  (of  this  Cock  or  the  other),  all 
Apparitions  do  melt  and  dissolve  in  space. 

The  Paris  Jacobins  became  'the  Mother-Society,  Societe 
3Iere;'and  had  as  many  as  'three  hundred'  shrill-ton gued 
daughters  in  '  direct  con-espondence  '  with  her.  Of  indirectly 
cori^sponding,  what  we  may  call  grand-daughters  and  minute 
progeny,  she  counted  'forty-four  thousand  ! '—But  for  the 
present  we  note  only  two  things :  the  first  of  them  a  mere 
anecdote.  One  night,  a  couple  of  brother  Jacobins  are  door- 
keepers ;  for  the  members  take  this  post  of  duty  and  honour 
in  rotation  ;  and  admit  none  that  have  not  tickets  :  one  door- 
keeper was  the  worthy  Sieur  Lais,  a  patriotic  Opera-singer, 
stricken  in  years,  whose  wind  pipe  is  long  since  closed  with- 


CLUBBISM.  309 

out  result ;  the  other,  young,  aud  named  Louis  PhiHppe, 
d'Orlean's  firstborn,  has  iu  this  latter  time,  after  unheard-of 
destinies,  become  Citizen-King,  and  struggles  to  rule  for  a 
season.     All  flesh  is  grass  ;  higher  reed-grass  or  creeping  herb. 

The  second  thing  we  have  to  note  is  historical  :  that  the 
Mother-Society,  even  in  this  its  effulgent  period,  cannot  con- 
tent all  Patriots.  Already  it  must  throw  off,  so  to  speak,  two 
dissatisfied  swarms ;  a  swarm  to  the  right,  a  swarm  to  the 
left.  One  party,  which  thinks  the  Jacobins  lukewarm,  con- 
stitutes itself  into  Club  of  the  Cordeliers ;  a  hotter  Club  :  it  is 
Danton's  element ;  with  whom  goes  Desmoulins.  The  other 
party,  again,  which  thinks  the  Jacobins  scalding-hot,  flies  of! 
to  the  right,  and  becomes  '  Club  of  1789,  Friends  of  the  Mo- 
narchic Constitution.'  They  are  afterwards  named  '  Faeillans 
Club  ; '  their  place  of  meeting  being  the  Fueiilans  Convent. 
Lafayette  is,  or  becomes,  their  chief  man  ;  supported  by  the 
resi:)ectable  Patriot  everywhere,  by  the  mass  of  Property  and 
Intelligence, — with  the  most  flourishing  prospects.  They, 
in  these  June  days  of  1790,  do,  in  the  Palais  Eoyal,  dine 
solemnly  with  open  windows  ;  to  the  cheers  of  the  people  ; 
with  toasts,  with  inspiriting  songs, — with  one  song  at  least, 
among  the  feeblest  ever  sung.*  They  shall,  in  due  time,  be 
hooted  forth,  over  the  borders,  into  Cimmerian  Night. 

Another  expressly  Monarchic  or  Eoyalist  Club,  '  Club  des 
Monarchiem,'  though  a  Club  of  ample  funds,  and  all  sitting  in 
damask  sofas,  cannot  realise  the  smallest  momentary  cheer : 
realises  only  scoffs  and  groans  ;  till,  ere  long,  certain  Patriots 
in  disorderly  sufficient  number,  proceed  thither,  for  a  night 
or  for  nights,  an(,l  groan  it  out  of  pam.  Vivacious  alone  shall 
the  Mother-Society  and  her  family  be.  The  very  Cordeliers 
may,  as  it  were,  return  into  her  bosom,  which  wiU  have  grown 
warm  enough. 

Fatal-looking !  Are  not  such  Societies  an  incipient  New 
Order  of  Society  itself?  The  Aggregative  Principle  anew  at 
work  in  a  Society  gTown  obsolete,  cracked  asunder,  dissolving 
into  rubbish  a»d  primary  atoms  ? 

*  flistoire  Parlemeutaire,  vi.  334. 


310  THE  FEAST  OF  I'IKES. 


CHAPTER  VL 

JE    LE    3VB.t. 

With  these  signs  of  the  times,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the 
dominant  feehng  all  over  France  was  still  continually  Hope  ? 
O  blessed  Hope,  sole  boon  of  Man :  whereby,  on  his  strait 
prison  walls,  are  painted  beautiful  far-stretching  landscapes  ; 
and  into  the  night  of  very  Death  is  shed  holiest  dawn !  Thou 
art  to  all  an  indefeasible  possession  in  this  God's-world  ;  to 
the  wise  a  sacred  Constantine's  banner,  written  on  the  eternal 
skies  ;  under  which  they  shall  conquer,  for  the  battle  itself  is 
victory  :  to  the  foolish  some  secular  m  irage,  or  shadow  of  still 
waters,  painted  on  the  parched  Earth  ;  whereby  at  least  their 
dusty  pilgrimage,  if  de\ious,  becomes  cheerfuller,  becomes 
possible. 

In  the  death-tumults  of  a  sinking  Society,  French  Hope 
sees  only  the  birth-struggles  of  a  new  unspeakably  better  So- 
ciety ;  and  sings,  with  full  assurance  Oi  faith,  her  brisk  Melody, 
which  some  inspired  fiddler  has  in  these  very  days  composed 
for  her,— the  world-famous  Ca^ira.  Yes  ;  'that  will  go  : '  and 
then  there  will  come — ?  All  men  hope  ;  even  Marat  hopes — 
that  Patriotism  will  take  muff  and  dirk.  King  Louis  is  not 
without  hope  :  in  the  chapter  of  chances  ;  in  a  flight  to  some 
Bouille  ;  in  getting  popularised  at  Paris.  But  what  a  hoping 
People  he  had,  judge  by  the  fact,  and  series  of  facts,  now  to 
be  noted. 

Poor  Louis,  meaning  the  best,  with  little  insight  and  even 
less  determination  of  his  own,  has  to  follow^  in  that  dim  way- 
faring of  his,  such  signal  as  may  be  given  him  ;  by  backstairs 
Royalism,  by  official  or  backstairs  Constitutionalism,  which- 
ever for  the  month  may  have  convinced  the  royal  mind.  If 
flight  to  Bouille,  and  (horrible  to  think !)  a  d rawing  of  the 
civil  sword  do  hang  as  theory,  portentous  in  the  background, 
much  nearer  is  this  fact  of  these  Twelve  Hundred  Kings,  who 
sit  iu  the  Salle  de  Manige,  Kings  uncontrollable  by  him,  not 


JE  LE  JiRE.  oil 

yet  irrevereiit  to  him.  Could  kiud  management  of  these  but 
prosper,  how  much  better  were  it  than  armed  Emig-rauts, 
Turin  intrigues,  and  the  help  of  Austria!  Nay,  are  the  tico 
hopes  inconsistent?  Rides  in  the  suburbs,  we  have  found, 
cost  little  ;  yet  they  always  brought  vivats*  Still  cheaper  is 
a  soft  word  ;  such  as  has  many  times  turned  away  wrath.  Li 
these  rapid  days,  while  France  is  all  getting  divided  into  De- 
partments, Clergy  about  to  be  remodelled.  Popular  Societies 
rising,  and  Feudalism  and  so  much  else  is  ready  to  be  hurled 
into  the  melting-pot, — might  one  not  try  ? 

On  the  4th  of  February,  accordingly,  M.  le  President  reads 
to  his  National  Assembly  a  short  autograph,  announcing  that 
his  Majesty  will  step  over,  quite  in  an  unceremonious  way, 
probably  about  noon.  Think,  therefore.  Messieurs,  what  it 
may  mean  ;  especially,  how  3'e  will  get  the  Hall  decorated  a 
little.  The  Secretaries'  Bureau  can  be  shifted  down  from  the 
platform  ;  on  the  President's  chair  be  slipped  this  cover  ox 
velvet,  '  of  a  violet  colour  sprigged  with  gold  fleur-de-lys  ; ' — 
for  indeed  M.  le  President  has  had  previous  notice  under- 
hand, and  taken  counsel  with  Dr.  Guillotin.  Then  some  frac- 
tion of  'velvet  carpet,'  of  like  texture  and  colour,  cannot  that 
be  spread  in  front  of  the  chair,  where  the  Secretaries  usually 
sit?  So  has  judicious  Guillotin  advised:  and  the  effect  is 
found  satisfactory.  Moreover,  as  it  is  probable  that  his  Maj- 
esty, in  spite  of  the  fleur-de-lys  velvet,  will  stand  and  not  sit 
at  all,  the  President  himself,  in  the  interim,  presides  stand- 
ing. And  so,  while  some  honoui'able  Member  is  discussing, 
say,  the  division  of  a  Department,  Ushers  announce  :  "  His 
Majesty ! "  In  person,  with  small  suite,  enter  Majesty :  the 
honourable  Member  stops  short ;  the  Assembly  starts  to  its 
feet :  the  Twelve  Hundred  Kings  '  almost  all,'  and  the  Galler- 
ies no  less,  do  welcome  the  Eestorer  of  French  Liberty  with 
loyal  shouts.  His  Majesty's  Speech,  in  diluted  conventional 
phraseology,  expresses  this  mainly :  That  he,  most  of  all 
Frenchmen,  rejoices  to  see  France  getting  regenerated  ;  is 
sure,  at  the  same  time,  that  they  will  deal  gently  with  her  in 
the  process,  and  not  regenerate  her  roughly.  Such  was  his 
*  See  Eertraiid-Moleville,  i.  241,  &c. 


312  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

Majesty's  Speech  :  tbe  feat  lie  performed  was  coming  to  speak 
it,  aud  going  back  again. 

Surely,  except  to  a  very  hoping  Peoj^le,  there  was  not  much 
here  to  build  upon.  Yet  what  did  they  not  build  !  The  fact 
that  the  King  has  spoken,  that  he  has  voluntarily  come  to 
speak,  how  inexpressibly  encouraging  !  Did  not  the  glance  of 
liis  royal  countenance,  like  concentrated  sunbeams,  kindle  all 
hearts  in  an  august  Assembly  ;  nay,  thereby  in  an  inflammable 
enthusiastic  France  ?  To  move  '  Deputation  of  thanks '  can  be 
the  happy  lot  of  but  one  man  ;  to  go  in  such  Deputation  the 
lot  of  not  many.  The  Deputed  have  gone,  and  returned  with 
what  highest-flown  compliment  they  could  ;  whom  also  the 
Queen  met,  Dauphin  in  hand.  And  still  do  not  our  hearts 
burn  with  insatiable  gratitude  ;  and  to  one  other  man  a  still 
higher  blessedness  suggests  itself  :  To  move  that  we  all  renew 
the  National  Oath. 

Happiest  honourable  Member,  with  his  word  so  in  season  as 
word  seldom  was  ;  magic  Fugleman  of  a  w^hole  National  As- 
sembly, which  sat  there  bursting  to  do  somewhat ;  Fugleman 
of  a  whole  onlooking  France !  The  President  swears ;  declares 
that  every  one  shall  swear,  in  distinct  je  le  jure.  Na}-,  the  very 
gallery  sends  him  down  a  written  slip  signed,  with  their  Oath 
on  it ;  and  as  the  Assembly  now  casts  an  eye  that  way,  the  Gal- 
lery all  stands  up  and  swears  again.  And  then  out  of  doors, 
consider  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  how  Bailly,  the  great  Tennis- 
Court  swearer,  again  swears,  towards  nightfall,  with  all  the 
Municipals,  and  Heads  of  Districts  assembled  there.  And 
'  M.  Danton  suggests  that  the  public  would  like  to  partake  : ' 
whereupon  Bailly,  with  escort  of  Twelve,  steps  forth  to  the 
great  outer  staircase  ;  sways  the  ebuUient  multitude  with 
stretched  hand  ;  takes  their  oath,  with  a  thunder  of  '  roUing 
drums,'  with  shouts  that  rend  the  welkin.  And  on  all  streets 
the  glad  people,  with  moisture  and  fire  in  theu-  eyes,  '  spon- 
taneously formed  groups,  and  swore  one  another,'  * — and  the 
whole  City  was  illuminated.  This  was  the  Fourth  of  Febru- 
ary, 1790  :  a  day  to  be  marked  white  in  Constitutional  annals. 

Nor  is  the  illumination  for  a  night  only,  but  partially  or  to- 
♦  Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pail.  iv.  445). 


PRODIGIES.  313 

tally  it  lasts  a  series  of  nights.  For  each  District,  tbe  Electors 
of  each  District,  will  swear  specially  ;  aucl  always  as  the  Dis- 
trict swears  ;  it  illuminates  itself.  Behold  them,  District 
after  District,  in  some  open  square,  where  the  Non-Electing 
People  can  all  see  and  join  :  with  their  uplifted  right- hands, 
andj'e  lejure:  with  rolling  drums,  with  embracings,  and  that 
infinite  hui-rah  of  the  enfranchised, — which  any  tja-ant  that 
there  may  be  can  consider  !  Faithful  to  the  Iving,  to  the 
Law,  to  the  Constitution  which  the  National  Assembly  shall 
make. 

Fancy,  for  example,  the  Professors  of  Universities  parading 
the  streets  with  their  young  France,  and  swearing,  in  an  en- 
thusiastic manner,  not  without  tumult.  By  a  larger  exercise 
of  fancy,  expand  duly  this  little  word  :  The  like  was  repeated 
in  every  Town  and  District  in  France  !  Nay  one  Patriot  Mother, 
in  Lagnon  of  Brittany,  assembles  her  ten  childi-eu  ;  and,  with 
her  own  aged  hand,  swears  them  all  herself,  the  high-souled 
venerable  woman.  Of  all  which,  moreover,  a  National  Assem- 
bly must  be  eloquently  apprised.  Such  three  weeks  of  swear- 
ing. Saw  the  Sun  ever  such  a  swearing  people  ?  Have  they 
been  bit  by  a  swearing  tarantula?  No  :  but  they  are  men 
and  Frenchmen  ;  they  have  Hope  ;  and,  singular  to  say,  they 
have  Faith  were  it  only  in  the  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques. 
O  my  Brothers,  would  to  Heaven  it  were  even  as  ye  think  and 
have  sworn  !  But  there  are  Lovers'  Oaths,  which,  had  they 
been  true  as  love  itself,  cayinot  be  kept ;  not  to  speak  of  Di- 
cer's Oaths,  also  a  known  sort. 


CHAPTER  VH. 


PRODIGIES. 

To  such  length  had  the  Gontrat  Social  brought  it,  in  believ- 
ing hearts.  Man,  as  is  well  said,  lives  by  faith  ;  each  genera- 
tion has  its  own  faith,  more  or  less ;  and  laughs  at  the  faith 
of  its  predecessor, — most  unwisely.  Grant  indeed  that  this 
faith  in  the  Social  Contract  belongs  to  the  stranger  sorts ; 
that  an  unborn  generation  may  very  wisely,  if  not  laugh,  yet 


CU  THE  FEAST    OF  PIKES. 

fetare  at  it,  and  piously  consider.  For,  alas,  what  is  Contrai  ? 
Xf  all  men  were  such  that  a  mere  spokeu  or  sworn  Contract 
would  bind  them,  all  men  were  then  true  men,  and  Govern- 
ment a  superfluity.  Not  that  thou  and  I  have  promised  to 
each  other,  but  what  the  balance  of  our  forces  can  make  us 
perform  to  each  other  :  that,  in  so  sinful  a  world  as  ours,  is 
the  thing  to  be  coimted  on.  But  above  all,  a  People  and  a 
Sovereign  promising  to  one  another  ;  as  if  a  whole  People, 
changing  fi*om  generation  to  generation,  nay  from  hour  to 
Uour,  could  ever  by  any  method  be  made  to  speak  or  j)romise ; 
and  to  speak  mere  solecisms  :  "  We,  be  the  Heavens  witness, 
which  Heavens  however  do  no  miracles  now  ;  we,  ever  chang- 
ing Millions,  will  allow  thee,  changeful  Unit,  to  force  us  or 
govern  us  !  "  The  world  has  perhaps  seen  few  faiths  compara- 
ble to  that. 

So  nevertheless  had  the  world  then  construed  the  matter. 
Had  they  not  so  construed  it,  how  different  had  their  hopes 
been,  their  attempts,  their  results  !  But  so  and  not  otherwise 
did  the  Upper  Powers  will  it  to  be.  Freedom  by  social  Con- 
tract :  such  was  verily  the  Gospel  of  that  Era.  Aud  all  men 
had  believed  in  it,  as  in  a  Heaven's  Glad-tidings  men  should  ; 
and  with  overflowing  heart  and  uplifted  voice  clave  to  it,  aud 
stood  fronting  Time  and  Etei-nity  on  it.  Nay,  smile  not ;  or 
only  with  a  smile  sadder  than  tears  !  This  too  was  a  better 
faith  than  the  one  it  had  replaced  :  than  faith  merely  in  the 
Everlasting  Nothing  and  man's  Digestive  Power  ;  lower  than 
wldch  no  faith  can  go. 

Not  that  such  universally  prevalent,  universally  jurant, 
feeling  of  Hope,  could  be  a  unanimous  one.  Far  from  that. 
The  time  was  ominous :  social  dissolution  near  and  certain  ; 
social  renovation  still  a  problem,  diiScult  aud  distant  even 
though  sure.  But  if  ominous  to  some  clearest  onlooker,  whose 
faith  stood  not  with  the  one  side  or  with  the  other,  nor  in  the 
ever-vexed  jarring  of  Greek  -with  Greek  at  all, — how  unspeak- 
ably ominous  to  dim  Eoyalist  participators  ;  for  whom  Royal- 
ism  was  Mankind's  palladium  ;  for  whom,  with  the  abolition 
of  Most-Christian  Kingship  and  Most-Tallep-and  Bishopship, 


PRODIGIES.  315 

all  loyiil  obedience,  all  religious  faith  was  to  expire,  and  final 
Night  envelop  the  Destinies  of  Man  !  On  serious  hearts,  of 
that  persuasion,  the  matter  sinks  down  deep  ;  prompting,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  backstairs  Plots,  to  Emigration  with  pledge 
of  war,  to  Monarchic  Clubs  ;  nay,  to  still  madder  things. 

The  Spirit  of  Prophecy,  for  instance,  had  been  considered 
extinct  for  some  centuries  :  nevertheless  these  last-times,  as 
indeed  is  the  tendency  of  last-times,  do  revive  it ;  that  so,  of 
French  mad  things,  we  might  have  sample  also  of  the  maddest. 
In  remote  rural  districts,  whither  Philosophism  has  not  yet 
radiated,  where  a  heterodox  Constitution  of  the  Clergy  is 
bringing  strife  round  the  altar  itself,  and  the  very  Church- 
bells  are  getting  melted  into  small  money-coin,  it  appears 
probable  that  the  End  of  the  World  cannot  be  far  off.  Deep- 
musing  atrabiliar  old  men,  especially  old  women,  hint  in  an 
obscure  way  that  they  know  what  they  know.  The  Holy 
Virgin,  silent  so  long,  has  not  gone  dumb  ; — and  truly  now, 
if  ever  more  in  this  world,  were  the  time  for  her  to  speak. 
One  Prophetess,  though  careless  Historians  have  omitted  her 
name,  condition,  and  whereabout,  becomes  audible  to  the 
general  ear  ;  credible  to  not  a  few :  credible  to  Friar  Gerle, 
poor  patriot  Chartreux,  in  the  National  Assembly  itself !  She, 
in  Pythoness'  recitative,  with  wildstaring  eye,  sings  that 
there  shall  be  a  Sign  ;  that  the  heavenly  Sun  himself  will 
hang  out  a  Sign,  or  Mock-Sun, — which,  many  say,  shall  be 
stamped  with  the  Head  of  hanged  Favras.  List,  Dom  Gerle, 
with  that  poor  addled  poll  of  thine  ;  hst,  O  list ; — and  hear 
nothing.  "* 

Notable  however  was  that  '  magnetic  vellum,  velin.  magne- 
tique,'  of  the  Sieurs  d'Hozier  and  Petit-Jean,  Parlementeers 
of  Kouen.  Sweet  young  d'Hozier,  '  bred  in  the  faith  of  his 
Missal,  and  of  Parchment  genealogies,'  and  of  parchment 
generally  ;  adust,  melancholic,  middle-aged  Petit- Jean  :  why 
came  these  two  to  Saint-Cloud,  where  his  Majesty  was  hunt- 
ing, on  the  festival  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul ;  and  waited 
there,  in  antechambers,  a  wonder  to  whispering  Swiss,  the 
livelong  day  ;  and  even  waited  without  the  Grates,  when 
*  Deux  Amis,  v.  c.  7. 


SIG  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

turned  out ;  and  had  dismissed  their  valets  to  Paris,  as  with 
pui-pose  of  endless  Avaitiug  ?  They  have  a  magnetic  vellum, 
these  two  ;  whereon  the  Virgin,  wonderfully  clothing  herself 
in  Mesmerean  Cagliostric  Occult-Philosophy,  has  inspired 
them  to  jot  down  instructions  and  predictions  for  a  much- 
straitened  King.  To  whom,  by  Higher  Order,  they  will  this 
day  present  it ;  and  save  the  Monarchy  and  World.  Unac- 
countable pair  of  visual-objects !  Ye  should  be  men,  and  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century  ;  but  your  magnetic  vellum  forbids 
us  so  to  interpret.  Say,  are  ye  aught  ?  Thus  ask  the  Guard- 
house Captains,  the  ]\Iayor  of  St.  Cloud  ;  nay,  at  great  length, 
thus  asks  the  Committee  of  Researches,  and  not  the  Munici- 
pal, but  the  National  Assembly  one.  Ko  distinct  answer,  for 
weeks.  At  last  it  becomes  plain  that  the  right  answer  is  nega- 
tive. Go,  ye  Chimeras,  with  your  magnetic  vellum  ;  sweet 
young  Chimera,  adust  middle-aged  one  !  The  Prison-doors 
are  open.  Hardly  again  shall  ye  preside  the  Rouen  Chamber 
of  Accounts  ;  but  vanish  obscurely  into  Limbo.* 


CHAPTER  Yin. 

SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND  COVENANT. 


Such  dim  masses,  and  specks  of  even  deepest  black,  work 
in  that  white-hot  glow  of  the  French  mind,  now  wholly  in 
fusion  and  cojifusion.  Old  women  here  swearing  their  ten 
children  on  the  new  Evangel  of  Jean  Jacques ;  old  women 
there  looking  up  for  Fa^Tas'  Heads  in  the  celestial  Luminary  : 
these  are  preternatural  signs,  jirefiguring  somewhat. 

In  fact,  to  the  Patriot  children  of  Hojic  themselves,  it  is 
undeniable  that  difficulties  exist :  emigrating  Seigneurs  ;  Par- 
lements  in  sneaking  but  most  malicious  mutiny  (though  the 
rope  is  round  their  neck)  ;  above  all,  the  most  decided  'de- 
ficiency of  grains.'  Sorrowful  :  but,  to  a  Nation  that  hopes, 
not  irremediable.  To  a  Nation  which  is  in  fusion  and  ardent 
communion  of  thought ;  which,  for  example,  on  signal  of  one 
Fugleman,  will  lift  its  right  hand  like  a  drilled  regiment,  and 

*  See  Deux  Amis,  v.  199. 


SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND   COVENANT.  317 

swear  and  illuminate,  till  every  \dllage  from  Ardennes  to  the 
Pyrenees  lias  rolled  its  village-dram,  and  sent  np  its  little 
oath,  and  glimmer  of  tallow-illumination  some  fathoms  into 
the  reign  of  Night  ! 

If  grains  are  defective,  the  fault  is  not  of  Nature  or  National 
Assembly,  but  of  Art  and  Antinational  Intriguers.  Such 
malign  individuals,  of  the  scoundrel  species,  have  power  to 
vex  us,  while  the  Constitution  is  a  making.  Endure  it,  ye 
heroic  Patriots  :  nay  rather,  why  not  cure  it  ?  Grains  do 
grow,  they  lie  extant  there  in  sheaf  or  sack  ;  only  that  re- 
graters  and  Eoyalist  plotters,  do  provoke  the  people  into 
illegality,  and  obstruct  the  transport  of  grains.  Quick,  ye 
organised  Patriot  Authorities,  armed  National  Guards,  meet 
together  ;  unite  your  goodwill ;  in  union  is  tenfold  strength  : 
let  the  concentrated  flash  of  your  Patriotism  strike  stealthy 
Scoundrelism  blind,  paralytic,  as  with  a  coup  de  soldi. 

Under  which  hat  or  nightcap  of  the  Twenty-five  millions, 
this  pregnant  Idea  first  arose,  for  in  some  one  head  it  did  rise, 
no  man  can  now  say.  A  most  small  idea,  near  at  hand  foi 
the  whole  world :  but  a  living  one,  fit ;  and  which  waxed, 
whether  into  greatness  or  not,  into  immeasurable  size.  When 
a  Nation  is  in  this  state  that  the  Fugleman  can  operate  on  it, 
what  will  the  word  in  season,  the  act  in  season,  not  do  !  It 
will  grow,  verily,  like  the  Boy's  Bean,  in  the  Fairy -Tale, 
heaven  high,  with  habitations  and  adventures  on  it,  in  one 
night.  It  is  nevertheless  unfortunately  still  a  Bean  (for  your 
long-lived  Oak  grows  not  so) ;  and,  the  next  night,  it  may  lie 
felled,  horizontal,  trodden  into  common  mud. — But  remai'k, 
at  least,  how  natural  to  any  agitated  Nation,  which  has  Faith, 
this  business  of  Covenanting  is.  The  Scotch,  believing  in  a 
righteous  Heaven  above  them,  and  also  in  a  Gospel,  far  other 
than  the  Jean-Jacques  one,  swore,  in  their  extreme  need,  a 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant, — as  Brothers  on  the  forlorn- 
hope,  and  imminence  of  battle,  who  embrace  looking  god- 
ward  :  and  got  the  whole  Isle  to  swear  it ;  and  even  in  their 
tough  Old  Saxon  Hebrew  Presbyterian  way,  to  keep  it  more 
or  less  ; — for  the  thing,  as  such  things  are,  was  heard  in 
Heaven,  and  partially  ratified  there  :  neither  is  it  yet  dead,  if 


318  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

tliou  wilt  look,  nor  like  to  die.  The  Fronch  too,  with  their 
Gallic  Etliuic  excitability  and  effervescence,  have,  as  we  have 
seen,  real  Faith,  of  a  sort ;  they  are  hard  bested,  though  in 
the  middle  of  Hope  :  a  National  Solemn  League  and  Cove- 
nant there  may  be  in  France  too  ;  under  how  different  con- 
ditions ;  with  how  different  development  and  issue  ! 

Note,  accordingly,  the  small  commencement ;  first  spark  of 
a  mighty  firework  :  for  if  the  particular  hat  cannot  be  fixed 
upon,  the  particular  District  can.  On  the  29th  day  of  last 
November,  were  National  Guards  by  the  thousand  seen  filing, 
from  far  and  near,  with  military  music,  with  MuniciiDal  offi- 
cers in  tricolor  sashes,  towards  and  along  the  Ehone-stream, 
to  the  little  town  of  Etoile,  There  with  ceremonial  evolution 
and  manoeuvre,  with  fanfaronading,  musketry-salvoes,  and 
what  else  the  Patriot  genius  could  demise,  they  made  oath 
and  obtestation  to  stand  faithfully  by  one  another,  under  Law 
and  King  ;  in  particular,  to  have  all  manner  of  grains,  while 
grains  there  were,  freely  circulated,  in  spite  both  of  robber 
and  regrater.  This  was  the  meeting  of  £toile,  in  the  mild 
end  of  November,  1789. 

But  now,  if  a  mere  empty  Keview,  followed  by  Review-din- 
ner ball,  and  such  gesticulation  and  flirtation  as  there  may  be, 
interests  the  happy  County-town,  and  makes  it  the  envy -of 
surrounding  County-towns,  how  much  more  might  this  !  In 
a  fortnight,  larger  Montelimart,  half  ashamed  of  itself,  will 
do  as  good,  and  better.  On  the  Plain  of  Montelimart,  or 
what  is  equally  sonorous,  '  under  the  Walls  of  Montelimart,' 
the  thirteenth  of  December  sees  new  gathering  and  obtesta- 
tion ;  six  thousand  strong  ;  and  now  indeed,  with  these  three 
remarkable  improvements,  as  unanimously  resolved  on  there. 
First,  that  the  men  of  Montelimart  do  federate  with  the  al- 
ready federated  men  of  Etoile.  Second,  that,  implying  not 
expressing  the  circulation  of  grain,  they  '  swear  in  the  face  of 
God  and  their  Country  '  with  much  more  emphasis  and  com- 
prehensiveness, '  to  obey  all  decrees  of  the  National  Assembly, 
and  see  them  obeyed,  till  devdh,  j nsqu' a.  la  mart.'  Third,  and 
most  important,  that  official  record  of  all  this  be  solemnly  de- 


SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND   COVENANT.  814 

livered  iu,  to  the  National  Assembh',  to  M.  de  Lafayette,  anci 
'  to  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  ; '  who  shall  all  take  what 
comfort  from  it  they  can.  Thus  does  larger  Moutc'limart  vin- 
dicate its  Patriot  importance,  and  maintain  its  rank  ii:^  tho 
municipal  scale.* 

And  so,  with  the  New-year  the  signal  is  hoisted  :  for  is  not 
a  National  Assembly,  and  solemn  dehverance  there,  at  lowest 
a  National  Telegraph  ?  Not  only  grain  shall  circulate,  while 
there  is  grain,  on  highways  or  the  Ehone-waters,  over  all  that 
South-Eastern  region, — where  also  if  Monseigneur  d'Ai'tois 
saw  good  to  break  in  from  Turin,  hot  welcome  might  wait 
him  ;  but  whatsoever  Province  of  France  is  sti'aitened  for 
•  grain,  or  vexed  with  a  mutinous  Parlement,  unconstitutional 
plotters.  Monarchic  Clubs,  or  any  other  Patriot  ailment, — can 
go  and  do  likewise,  or  even  do  better.  And  now,  especially, 
when  the  February  swearing  has  set  them  all  agog  !  From 
Brittany  to  Burgundy,  on  most  Plains  of  France,  under  most 
City- walls,  it  is  a  blaring  of  trumpets,  waving  of  banners,  a 
Constitutional  manoeuvring  :  under  the  vernal  skies,  while 
Nature  too  is  putting  forth  her  green  Hopes,  under  bright 
su]ishine  defaced  by  the  stormf  ul  East ;  like  Patriotism  victori- 
ous, though  with  difficulty,  over  Aristocracy  and  defect  of 
grain  !  There  march  and  constitutionally  wheel,  to  the  ^a-ira- 
ing  mood  of  fife  and  drum,  imder  their  tricolor  Municipals, 
our  clear-gleaming  Phalanxes  ;  or  halt,  with  uplifted  right- 
hand,  and  artillery-salvoes  that  imitate  Jove's  thunder  ;  and 
all  the  Country,  and  metaphorically  all  '  the  Universe,'  is  look- 
ing on.  Wholly,  in  their  best  apj)arel,  brave  men,  and  beau- 
tifully dizened  women,  most  of  whom  have  lovers  there  ; 
swearing,  by  the  eternal  Heavens  and  this  green-growing  all- 
nutritive  Earth,  that  France  is  free  ! 

Sweetest  days,  Avhen  (astonishing  to  say)  mortals  have  act- 
ually met  together  in  communion  and  fellowship  ;  and  man, 
were  it  only  once  through  long  despicable  centuries,  is  for 
moments  verily  the  brother  of  man  ! — And  then  the  Deputa- 
tions to  the  National  Assembly,  with  high-flown  descriptive 
harangue  ;  to  M.  de  Lafayette,  and  the  Restorer  ;  very  fre- 
*  Histoire  Parlementaire,  vii.  4. 


320  THE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

queutly  moreover  to  the  Mother  of  Patriotisra,  sitting  on  her 
stout  benches  in  that  Hall  of  the  Jacobins  !  The  general  ear 
is  filled  with  Federation.  New  names  of  Patriots  emerge, 
which  shall  one  day  become  familiar :  Boyer-Fonfrede,  elo- 
quent denunciator  of  a  I'ebellious  Bourdeaux  Parlement ; 
Max  Isnard,  eloquent  reporter  of  the  Federation  of  Draguig- 
nan  ;  eloquent  pair,  separated  by  the  whole  breadth  of 
France,  who  are  nevertheless  to  meet.  Ever  wider  burns  the 
flame  of  Federation  ;  ever  wider  and  also  brighter.  Thus  the 
Brittany  and  Anjou  brethren  mention  a  Fraternity  of  all  true 
Frenchmen  ;  and  go  the  length  of  invoking  '  perdition  and 
death '  on  any  renegade  :  moreover,  if  in  their  National  As- 
sembly harangue,  they  glance  plaintively  at  the  marc  d'argent 
which  makes  so  many  citizens  pamice,  they,  over  in  the  Mother- 
Society,  ask,  being  henceforth  themselves  'neither  Bretons 
nor  Angevins,  but  French,'  Why  all  France  has  not  one  Fed- 
eration, and  universal  Oath  of  Brotherhood,  once  for  all  ?  *  A 
most  pertinent  suggestion  ;  dating  from  the  end  of  March. 
Which  pertinent  suggestion  the  whole  Patriot  world  cannot 
but  catch,  and  reverberate  and  agitate  till  it  become  loud  ; — ■ 
which,  in  that  case,  the  Townhall  Municipals  had  better  take 
up,  and  meditate. 

Some  universal  Federation  seems  inevitable  :  the  Where  is 
given  ;  clearly  Paris  :  only  the  When,  the  How  ?  These  also 
productive  Time  will  give  ;  is  already  giving.  For  always  as 
the  Federative  work  goes  on,  it  perfects  itself,  and  Patriot 
genius  adds  contribution  after  contribution.  Thus,  at  Lyons, 
in  the  end  of  the  May  month,  Ave  behold  as  many  as  fifty,  or 
some  say  sixty  thousand,  met  to  federate  ;  and  a  multitude 
looking  on,  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  number.  From 
dawn  to  dusk !  For  our  Lyons  Guardsmen  took  rank,  at  five 
in  the  bright  dewy  morning  ;  came  pouring  in,  bright-gleam- 
ing, to  the  Quai  de  Rhone,  to  march  thence  to  the  Federation- 
field  ;  amid  wavings  of  hats  and  lady-handkerchiefs  :  glad 
shoutings  of  some  two  hundred  thousand  Patriot  voices  and 
hearts  ;  the  beautiful imd  brave  !  Among  whom,  courting  no 
notice,  and  yet  the  notablest  of  all,  what  queen-like  Figure  is 
*  Reports,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Farl.  ix.  122-147). 


SOLEMN  LEAGUE  AND   CO  YEN  ANT.  321 

this  ;  Avith  lier  escort  of  liouise-friencls  and  Cliampagneux  tba 
Patriot  E-litor  ;  come  abroad  with  the  earliest  ?  Radiant  with 
enthusiasm  are  those  dark  eyes,  is  that  strong  Minerva-face, 
looking  dignity  and  earnest  joy  ;  joyfuUest  she  where  all  are 
joyful.  It  is  Roland  de  la  Platriere's  Wife  !  *  Strict  elderly 
Roland,  King's  Inspector  of  Manufactures  here  ;  and  now  like- 
wise, by  popular  choice,  the  strictest  of  our  new  Lyons  Muni- 
cipals ;  a  man  who  has  gained  much,  if  worth  and  faculty 
be  gain  ;  but,  above  all  things,  has  gained  to  wife  Phlipon 
the  Paris  EngTaver's  daughter.  Reader,  mark  that  queen- 
like burgher-woman  :  beautiful,  Amazoninn-graceful  to  the 
eye  ;  more  so  to  the  mind.  Unconscious  of  her  worth  (as  all 
worth  is),  of  her  greatness,  of  her  crystal  clearness  ;  genuine, 
the  creature  of  Sincerity  and  Nature,  in  an  age  of  Artificiality, 
Pollution  and  Cant ;  there,  in  her  still  completeness,  in  her  still 
invincibility,  she,  if  thovi  knew  it,  is  the  noblest  of  all  living- 
Frenchwomen, — and  will  be  seen,  one  day.  O  blessed  rather 
while  2<»seen,  even  of  herself !  For  the  present  she  gazes, 
nothing  doubting,  into  this  grand  theatricality  ;  and  thinks 
her  young  dreams,  are  to  be  fulfilled. 

From  dawn  to  dusk,  as  we  said,  it  lasts  ;  and  truly  a  sight 
like  few.  Floui-ishes  of  drums  and  trumpets  are  something  : 
but  think  of  an  'artificial  Rock  fifty  feet  high,'  all  cut  into 
crag-steps,  not  without  the  similitude  of  '  shrubs  ! '  The  in- 
terior cavity,  for  in  sooth  it  is  made  of  deal,  — stands  solemn, 
a  '  Temple  of  Concord  : '  on  the  outer  summit  rises  '  a  Statue 
of  Liberty,'  colossal,  seen  for  miles,  with  her  Pilce  and  Phryg- 
ian Cap  and  civic  column  ;  at  her  feet  a  Country's  Altar, 
'  Autel  de  la  Patrie  : ' — on  all  which  neither  deal-timber  nor 
lath  and  plaster,  with  paint  of  various  colours,  have  been 
spared.  But  fancy  then  the  banners  all  placed  on  the  steps 
of  the  Rock  ;  high-mass  chanted  ;  and  the  civic  oath  of  fifty 
thousand  :  with  what  volcanic  outburst  of  sound  from  iron 
and  other  throats,  enough  to  frighten  back  the  very  Soane 
and  Rhone  ;  and  how  the  brightest  fireworks,  and  balls,  and 
even  repasts,  closed  in  that  night  of  the  gods  !  f     And  so  the 

*  Madame  Roland  :  Mf'moires,  i    (Discours  Preliminaire,  p.  23). 
•|-  Histoire  Tarlementaire,  xii.  274. 
Vol.  I.— 21 


322  rm:  feast  of  pikuS. 

Lyons  Federation  vanishes  too,  swallowed  of  darkness  ; — and 
yet  not  wholly,  for  our  brave  fair  Roland  was  there  ;  also  she, 
though  in  the  deepest  privac}',  WTites  her  Narrative  of  it  in 
Champagneux's  Courrier  du  Lyons  ;  a  piece  which  '  circulates 
to  the  extent  of  sixty  thousand  ; '  which  one  would  like  now 
to  read. 

But  on  the  whole,  Paris,  we  may  see,  will  have  little  to  de- 
vise ;  will  only  have  to  borrow  and  ai:iply.  And  then  as  to 
the  day,  what  day  of  all  the  calendar  is  fit,  if  the  Bastille  An- 
niversary be  not  ?  The  particular  spot  too,  it  is  easy  to  see, 
must  be  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  w^here  many  a  Julian  the  Apos- 
tate has  been  lifted  on  bucklers,  to  France's  or  the  world's 
sovereignty  ;  and  iron  Franks,  loud-clanging,  have  responded 
to  the  voice  of  a  Charlemagne  ;  and  from  of  old  mere  sublimi- 
ties have  been  familiar. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


How  natural,  in  all  decisive  circumstances,  is  Symbolic 
RejDresentation  to  all  kinds  of  men !  Nay,  what  is  man's 
whole  terrestial  Life  but  a  Symbolic  Representation,  and  mak- 
ing visible,  of  the  Celestial  invisible  Force  that  is  in  him  ? 
By  act  and  word  he  strives  to  do  it  ;  with  sincerity,  if  jiossi- 
ble  ;  failing  that,  with  theatricality,  which  latter  also  may 
have  its  meaning.  An  Almack's  Masquerade  is  not  nothing  ; 
in  more  genial  ages,  your  Christmas  Guisings,  Feasts  of  the 
Ass,  Abbots  of  Unreason,  were  a  considerable  something  ; 
sincere  sport  they  were  ;  as  Almacks  may  still  bo  sincere 
wish  for  sport.  But  what,  on  the  other  hand,  must  not  sin- 
cere earnest  have  been  ;  say,  a  Hebrew  Feast  of  Tabernacles 
have  been  !  A  whole  Nation  gathered,  in  the  name  of  the 
Highest,  under  the  eye  of  the  Highest ;  imagination  herself 
flagging  under  the  reality  ;  and  all  noblest  Ceremony  as  yet 
not  grown  ceremonial,  but  solemn  significant  to  the  outmost 
fringe  !     Neither,  in  modern  private  life,  are  theatrical  scenes, 


SYMLOLIO.  «^23 

of  tearful  women  wetting  whole  ells  of  caml)riG  in  concert,  of 
impassioned  busliy-wiskered  youth  threatening  suicide,  and 
such  like,  to  be  so  entirely  detested :  drop  thou  a  teai*  over 
them  thyself  rather. 

At  any  rate,  one  can  remark  that  no  Nation  will  throw  by 
its  work,  and  deliberately  go  out  to  make  a  scene,  without 
meaning  something  thereby.  For  indeed  no  scenic  individ- 
ual, with  knavish  hypocritical  views,  will  take  the  trouble  to 
soliloquise  a  scene  :  and  now  consider,  is  not  a  scenic  Nation 
placed  precisely  in  that  predicament  of  soliloquising  ;  for  its 
own  behoof  alone  ;  to  solace  its  own  sensibilities,  maudlin  or 
other? — Yet  in  this  respect,  of  readiness  for  scenes,  the  dif- 
ference of  Nations,  as  of  men,  is  very  great.  If  our  Saxon- 
Puritanic  friends,  for  example,  swore  and  signed  their  Na- 
tional Covenant,  without  discharge  of  gunpowder,  or  the 
beating  of  any  drum,  in  a  dingy  Covenant-Close  of  the  Edin- 
burgh High-street,  in  a  mean  room,  where  men  now  drink 
mean  liquor,  it  w^as  consistent  with  their  ways  so  to  swear  it. 
Our  Gallic-Encyclopedic  friends,  again,  must  have  a  Champ-dc- 
Mars,  seen  of  all  the  v^orld,  or  universe  ;  and  such  a  Scenic 
Exhibition,  to  w^hich  the  Coliseum  Amphitheatre  was  but  n 
stroller's  barn,  as  this  old  Globe  of  our3  had  never  or  hardly 
ever  beheld.  Which  method  also  we  reckon  natural,  then 
and  there.  Nor  perhaps  was  the  respective  keeping  of  these 
two  Oaths  far  out  of  the  due  proportion  to  such  resj^ective 
display  in  taking  them  :  inverse  proportion,  namely.  For  the 
theatricality  of  a  People  goes  in  a  compound  ratio  :  ratio  in- 
deed of  their  trustfulness,  sociability,  fervency  ;  but  then  also 
of  their  excitability,  of  their  porosity,  not  continent ;  or  say, 
of  their  explosiveness,  hot-flashing,  but  which  does  not  last. 

How  true  also,  once  more,  is  it  that  no  man  or  Nation  of  men, 
conscious  of  doing  a  great  thing,  was  ever,  in  that  thing,  doing 
other  than  a  small  one  !  O  Champ-de-Mars  Federation,  with 
three  hundred  drummers,  twelve  hundred  wind-musicians, 
and  artillery  planted  on  height  after  height  to  boom  the  ti- 
dings of  it  all  over  France,  in  few  minutes !  Could  no  x\theist- 
Naigeon  contrive  to  discern  eighteen  centuries  off,  those 
Thirteen  most  poor  mean-dressed  men,  at  frugal  Supper,  m  a 


324:  THE  FEAST   OF  TIKES. 

meau  Jewish  dwelliug,  with  no  symbol  but  hearts  god-initiated 
into  the  'Divine  depth  of  Sorrow,'  and  a  Do  iJiU  in  remembrance 
of  me  ;— and  so  cease  that  small  difficult  crowing  of  his,  if  he 
were  not  doomed  to  it  ? 


CHAPTEK  X. 


Paedonable  are  human  theatricalities  ;  nay,  perhaps  touch- 
ing, like  the  passionate  utterance  of  a  tongue  which  Avith 
sincerity  stammers;  of  a  head  which  Avith  insincerity  iaiWes, — 
having  gone  distracted.  Yet,  in  comparison  with  unpremedi- 
tated outbursts  of  Nature,  such  as  an  Insurrection  of  Women, 
how  foisonless,  unedifj-ing,  undelightful ;  like  small  ale  palled, 
like  an  effervescence  that  has  effervesced  !  Such  scenes,  com- 
ing of  forethought,  were  they  world-great,  and  never  so  cun- 
ningly devised,  are  at  bottom  mainly  pasteboard  and  paint. 
But  the  others  are  original ;  emitted  from  the  great  everliving 
heart  of  Nature  herself :  what  figure  they  will  assume  is  un- 
speakably significant.  To  us,  therefore,  let  the  French  Na- 
tional Solemn  League,  and  Federation,  be  the  highest  recorded 
triumph  of  the  Thespian  Art ;  triumphant  surely,  since  the 
whole  Pit,  which  was  of  Twenty-five  Milhons,  not  only  claps 
hands,  but  does  itself  spring  on  the  boards  and  passionately 
set  to  playing  there.  And  being  such,  be  it  treated  as  such  : 
with  sincere  cursory  admiration  ;  with  wonder  from  afar.  A 
whole  Nation  gone  mumming  deserves  so  much  ;  but  deserves 
not  that  loving  minuteness  a  Menadic  Insurrection  did.  Much 
more  let  prior,  and  as  it  were,  reliearsal  scenes  of  Federation 
come  and  go,  henceforward,  as  they  list  ;  and  on  Plains  and 
under  City-walls,  innumerable  regimental  bands  blare  ofi:"  into 
the  Inane,  without  note  from  ns. 

One  scene,  however,  the  hastiest  reader  will  momentarily 
pause  on  :  that  of  Anacharsis  Clootz  and  the  Collective  sinful 
Posterity  of  Adam. — For  a  Patriot  Municipality  has  now,  on 
tlie  4th  of  June,  got  its  plan  concocted,  and  got  it  sanctioned 
by  National  Assembly  ;  a  Patriot  King  assenting  ;  to  whom, 


MANKIND.  325 

were  he  even  free  to  dissent,  Federative  harangues,  ovei'flow* 
ing  with  loyalt}',  have  doubtless  a  transient  sweetness.  There 
shall  come  Deputed  National  Guards,  so  many  in  a  hundred, 
from  each  of  the  Eighty-three  Deijartments  of  France.  Like- 
wise from  all  Naval  and  Mihtary  King's  Forces,  shah  Deputed 
quotas  come ;  such  Federation  of  National  with  Royal  Soldier 
has,  taking  place  spontaneously,  been  already  seen  and  sanc- 
tioned. For  the  rest,  it  is  hoped  as  many  as  forty  thousand 
may  arrive  :  expenses  to  be  borne  by  the  Deputing  District ; 
of  all  which  let  District  and  Department  take  thought,  and 
elect  fit  men, — whom  the  Paris  brethren  will  fly  to  meet  and 
welcome. 

Now,  therefore,  judge  if  our  Patriot  Artists  are  busy ;  tak- 
ing deep  counsel  how  to  make  the  Scene  worthy  of  a  look 
from  the  Universe  !  As  many  as  fifteen  thousand  men,  spade- 
men, barrow-men,  stone-builders,  rammers,  with  their  engi- 
neers, are  at  work  on  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  hollowing  it  out 
into  a  natural  Amphitheatre,  fit  for  such  solemnity.  For  one 
may  hope  it  will  be  annual  and  perennial  ;  a  •'  Feast  of  Pikes, 
F3te  des  Piques,'  notablest  among  the  high  tides  of  the  year  : 
in  any  case,  ought  not  a  scenic  Free  Nation  to  have  some  per- 
manent National  Amphitheatre  ?  The  Champ -de-Mars  is  get- 
ting hollowed  out ;  and  the  daily  talk  and  the  nightly  dream 
in  most  Parisian  heads  is  of  Federation,  and  that  only.  Fed- 
erate Depi^ties  are  already  under  way.  National  Assembly, 
what  with  its  natural  work,  what  with  hearing  and  answering 
harangues  of  these  Federates,  of  this  Federation,  will  have 
enough  to  do  !  Harangue  of  '  American  Committee,'  among 
v/hom  is  that  faint  figure  of  Paul  Jones  as  '  with  the  stars  dim- 
twiakling  through  it,' — come  to  congratulate  us  on  the  pros- 
pact  of  such  auspicious  day.  Harangue  of  Bastille  Conquerors, 
come  to  'renounce'  any  special  recompense,  any  peculiar  place 
at  the  solemnity; — since  the  Centre  Grenadiers  rather  grumble. 
Hirangue  of  '  Tennis-Court  Club,'  who  enter  with  far-gleam- 
ing Brass-plate,  aloft  on  a  pole,  and  the  Tennis-Court  Oath 
engraved  thereon  ;  which  far-gleaming  Brass-plate  they  pur- 
pose to  affix  solemnly  in  the  Versailles  original  locality,  on  the 
'20th  of  this  month,  which  is  tlie  anniversary,  as  a  deathless 


3)1Q  THE  FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

memorial,  for  some  yeai's  :  they  will  then  dine,  as  they  come 
back,  in  theBois  de  Boulogne  ;* — cannot,  however,  do  it  with- 
out apprising  the  world.  To  such  things  does  the  august 
National  Assembly  ever  and  anon  cheerfully  listen,  suspending 
its  regenerative  labour's  ;  and  with  some  touch  of  impromptu 
eloquence,  make  friendly  reply  ; — as  indeed  the  wont  has  long 
been  ;  for  it  is  a  gesticulating,  sympathetic  People*  and  has  a 
heart,  and  wears  it  on  its  sleeve. 

In  which  circumstances,  it  occurred  to  the  mind  of  Ana- 
charsis  Clootz,  that  while  so  much  was  embodying  itself  into 
Club  or  Committee,  and  perorating  applauded,  there  yet  re- 
mained a  greater  and  gi-eatest ;  of  which,  if  it  also  took  body 
and  perorated,  what  might  not  the  effect  be  :  Humankind, 
namely,  le  Genre  Humain  itself !  In  what  rapt  creative  mo- 
ment the  Thought  rose  in  Anacharsis's  soul ;  all  his  throes, 
while  he  went  about  giving  shape  and  birth  to  it  ;  how  he 
was  sneered  at  by  cold  worldhngs  ;  but  did  sneer  again,  being 
a  man  of  polished  sarcasm  ;  and  moved  to  and  fro  jjersuasive 
in  coffeehouse  and  soiree,  and  dived  down  assiduous-obscure 
ill  the  great  deej)  of  Paris,  making  his  Thought  a  Fact  :  of  all 
this  the  spiritual  biographies  of  that  period  say  nothing. 
Enough,  that  on  the  19th  evening  of  June,  1790,  the  sun's 
slant  rays  lighted  a  spectacle  such  as  our  foolish  little  Planet 
has  not  often  had  to  shov,-  :  Anacharsis  Clootz  entering  the 
august  Salle  de  Manege,  with  the  Human  Species  aj;  his  lieels. 
Swedes,  Spaniards,  Polacks  ;  Turks,  Chaldeans,  Greeks  dwell- 
ers in  Mesopotamia  ;  behold  them  all ;  they  have  come  to 
claim  place  in  the  grand  Federation,  having  an  undoubted 
interest  in  it. 

"Our  Ambassador  titles,"  said  the  fervid  Clootz,  "are  not 
"written  on  parchment,  but  on  the  living  hearts  of  all  men." 
These  whiskered  Polacks,  long-flowing  turbaned  Ishmaelites, 
astrological  Chaldeans,  who  stand  so  mute  here,  let  them 
Ijlead  with  you,  august  Senators,  more  eloquently  than  elo- 
quence could.  They  are  the  mute  representatives  of  their 
tongue-tied,  befettered,  heavy-laden  Nations  ;  who,  from  out 
of  that  dark  bewilderment  gaze  wistful,  amazed,  with  half' 
*  See  Teiix  Amis  (■<r.  122),  Hist.  Pari,  &c. 


MANKIND.  327 

incredulous  liope,  towards  you,  and  this  your  briglii  light  of 
a  I'rench  Federation  :  bright  particular  day-star,  the  herald 
of  universal  day.  We  claim  to  stand  there,  as  mute  monu- 
ments, pathetically  adumbrative  of  much. — From  bench  and 
gallery  comes  '  repeated  aj)plause  ; '  for  what  august  Senator 
but  is  flattered  even  by  the  very  shadow  of  Human  Species 
depending  on  him?  From  President  Sieyes,  who  presides 
this  remarkable  fortnight,  in  spite  of  his  small  voice,  there 
comes  eloquent  though  shrill  reply.  Anacharsis  and  the 
'  Foreigners  Committee '  shall  have  place  at  the  Federation  ; 
on  condition  of  telhng  their  respective  Peoples  what  they  see 
there.  In  the  mean  time,  we  invite  them  to  the  '  honours  of 
the  sitting,  honneur  de  la  seance.'  A  long-flowing  Turk,  for 
rejoinder,  bows  with  Eastern  solemnity,  and  utters  articulate 
sounds  :  but.owing  to  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  French 
dialect,*  his  words  are  like  spilt  water  ;  the  thought  he  had  in 
him  remains  conjectural  to  this  day. 

Anarcharsis  and  Mankind  accept  the  honours  of  the  sitting ; 
and  have  forthwith,  as  the  old  Newspapers  still  testify,  the 
satisfaction  to  see  several  things.  First  and  chief,  on  the 
Motion  of  Lameth,  Lafayette,  Saint-Fargeau  and  other  Patriot 
Nobles,  let  the  others  repugn  as  they  will  :  all  Titles  of  No- 
bility, from  Duke  to  Esquire,  or  lower,  are  henceforth  abul- 
Uhed.  Then,  in  like  manner,  Livery  Servants,  or  rather  the 
Livery  of  Sei-vants.  Neither,  for  the  future,  shall  any  man  or 
woman,  self-styled  noble,  be  'incensed,' — foolishly  fumigated 
with  incense,  in  Church  ;  as  the  wont  has  been.  In  a  word, 
Feudalism  being  dead  these  ten  months,  why  should  her 
empty  trappings  and  scutcheons  survive?  The  \evj  Coats-of- 
arms  will  require  to  be  obUterated  ; — and  yet  Cassandra 
Marat  on  this  and  the  other  coach-jjanel  notices  that  they 
'are  but  painted  over,'  and  threaten  to  peer  through  again. 

So  that  henceforth  de  Lafayette  is  but  the  Sieur  Motier,  and 
Saint-Fargeau  is  plain  Michel  Lepelletier  ;  and  IVIirabeau  soou 
after  has  to  say  huffingly,  "With  your  Riquetti  you  have  set 
"  Europe  at  cross-purposes  for  three  days."  For  his  Count- 
hood  is  not  indifferent  to  this  man  ;  which  indeed  the  admir- 
*  Moiiiteur,   &;e.  (iu  Hist.   Paii.  xii.   283.) 


328  THE  FEAST    OF  PIKES. 

ing  People  treat  him  with  to  the  last.  Bat  let  extreme  Patri- 
otism  rejoice,  and  chiefly  Anacharsis  and  Mankind  ;  for  now 
it  seems  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  one  Adam  is  Father  o| 
us  all ! — 

Such  was,  in  historic  accuracy',  the  famed  feat  of  Anacharsis. 
Thus  did  the  most  extensive  of  Public  Bodies  find  a  sort  of 
spokesman.  Whereby  at  least  we  may  judge  of  one  thing : 
what  a  humour  the  once  sniffing  mocking  City  of  Paris  and 
B.iron  Clootz  had  got  into  ;  when  such  exhibition  could  appear 
a  propi'iety,  next  door  to  a  sublimit}'.  It  is  true,  Envy  did,  in 
after  times,  pervert  this  success  of  Anacharsis ;  making  him, 
from  incidental  '  Speaker  of  the  Foreign-Nations  Committee,' 
claim  to  be  official  permanent  'Speaker,  Orateur,  of  the  Human 
Species,'  Avhich  he  only  deserved  to  be  ;  and  alleging,  cahimni- 
ously,  that  his  astrological  Chaldeans,  and  the  rest,  were  a 
mere  French  tag-rag-and-bobtail  disguised  for  the  nonce  ; 
and,  in  short,  sneering  and  fleering  at  him  in  her  cold  barren 
way  ;  all  which,  however,  he,  the  man  he  was,  could  receive  on 
thick  enough  panoply,  or  even  rebound  therefrom,  and  also  go 
his  way. 

Most  extensive  of  Public  Bodies,  we  may  call  it  ;  and  also 
the  most  unexpected  :  for  who  could  have  thought  to  see  All 
Nations  in  the  Tuileries  Kiding-Hall  ?  But  so  it  is  ;  and  truly 
as  strange  things  may  happen  when  a  whole  People  goes  mum- 
ming and  miming.  Hast  not  thou  thyself  perchance  seen  dia- 
demed Cleopatra,  daughter  of  the  Ptolemies,  pleading,  almost 
with  bended  knee,  in  unheroic  tea-parlour,  or  dimlit  retailshop, 
to  inflexible  gross  Burghal  Dignitary,  for  leave  to  reign  and 
die  ;  being  dressed  for  it,  and  moneyless,  with  small  children  ; 
— wliile  suddenly  Constables  have  shut  the  Thesj^ian  barn,  and 
her  Antony  pleaded  in  vain  ?  Such  visual  spectra  flit  across 
this  earth,  if  the  Thespian  Stage  be  rudely  interfered  with : 
but  much  more,  when,  as  was  said,  Pit  jumps  on  Stage,  then 
is  it  verily,  as  in  Herr  Tieck's  Drama,  a  Verkehrle  Welt,  or 
Woi'Ll  Topsyturvied  ! 

Having  seen  the  Human  Species  itself,  to  have  seen  the 
^  Dean  oi  the  Human   Species,' ceased   now  to  bo  a  niiracla 


AS  IN  THE  AGE  OF   GOLD.  329 

Such  ^  Doyen  du  Genre  ffumain,  Eldest  of  men,'  Lad  sliown 
Jjimself  there,  in  tliese  weeks :  Jeau  Claude  Jacob,  a  born  Serf, 
deputed  from  bis  native  Jura  Mountains  to  thank  the  National 
Assembly  for  enfranchising  them.  On  his  bleached  worn  face 
are  ploughed  the  furrowingsof  one  hundred  and  twenty  years. 
He  has  heard  dim  patois-talk,  of  immortal  Grand-Monarch 
victories  :  of  a  biu'ned  Palatinate,  as  he  toiled  and  moiled  to 
niake  a  httle  speck  of  this  Earth  greener  ;  of  Cevennes  Dra- 
goonings ;  of  Marlborough  going  to  the  war.  Four  generations 
have  bloomed  out,  and  loved  and  hated,  and  rustled  off :  he 
was  forty-six  when  Louis  Fourteenth  died.  The  Assembly,  as 
one  man,  spontaneously  rose,  and  did  reverence  to  the  Eldest 
of  the  World  ;  old  Jean  is  to  take  seance  among  them,  hon- 
ourably, with  covered  head.  He  gazes  feebly  there,  with  his 
old  eyes,  on  that  new  wonder-scene  ;  dreamlike  to  him,  and  un- 
certain, wavering  amid  fragments  of  old  memories  and  dreams. 
For  time  is  all  growing  unsubstantial,  dreamlike  ;  Jean's  eyes 
and  mind  are  weary,  and  about  to  close, — and  open  on  a  far 
other  wonder-scene,  which  shall  be  real.  Patriot  Subscription, 
Koyal  Pension  was  got  for  him,  and  he  returned  home  glad  ; 
but  in  two  months  more  he  left  it  all,  and  went  on  his  un- 
known way.* 

CHAPTER  Xr. 

AS    IN    THE    AGE   OF   GOLD. 

Meamwhile  to  Paris,  ever  going  and  returning,  day  afte 
da}',  and  all  daj'  long,  towards  that  Field  of  Mars,  it  becomes 
painfully  apparent  that  the  spadev.-ork  there  cannot  be  got 
done  in  time.  There  is  such  an  area  of  it ;  three  hundred 
thousand  square  feet :  for  from  the  Ecole  Militaire  (which 
will  need  to  be  done  up  in  wood  with  balconies  and  galleries) 
westward  to  the  Gate  by  the  River  (where  also  shall  be  wood, 
in  triumphal  arches),  we  count  some  thousand  yards  of 
length  ;  and  for  breadth,  from  this  umbrageous  Avenue  of 
eight  rows,  on  the  South  side,  to  that  corresponding  one  on 
the  North,  some  thousand  feet  more  or  less.     All  this  to  be 

*  Denx  Amis,  ir.  iii. 


330  Th/-J  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

scooped  out,  and  wheeled  up  in  slope  along  the  sides ;  higlj 
enough  ;  for  it  must  be  rammed  down  tliere,  and  shaped 
stair-wise  into  as  many  as  '  thirty  ranges  of  convenient  seats,' 
finn-trimmed  with  turf,  covered  with  enduring  timber  ; — and 
then  our  huge  pyramidal  Fatherlands-Altar,  Aulrel  de  la 
Pairie,  in  the  centre,  also  to  be  raised  and  stair-stepped. 
Force  work  with  a  vengeance  ;  it  is  a  World's  Amphitheatre  ! 
There  are  but  fifteen  day's  good  :  and  at  this  languid  rate, 
it  might  take  half  as  many  weeks.  What  is  singular  too,  the 
spademen  seem  to  work  lazily  ;  they  will  not  work  double- 
tides,  even  for  offer  of  more  wages,  though  their  tide  is  but 
seven  hours  ;  they  declare  angrily  that  the  human  tabernacle 
requires  occasional  rest ! 

Is  it  Aristocrats  secretly  bribing  ?  Aristocrats  were  capa- 
ble of  that.  Only  six  months  since,  did  not  evidence  get 
afloat  that  subterranean  Paris,  for  we  stand  over  quarries  and 
catacombs,  dangerously,  as  it  were  midway  between  Heaven 
and  the  Abyss,  and  are  hollow  underground, — was  charged 
with  gunpowder,  which  should  make  us  '  leap '  ?  Till  a  Cor- 
delier's Deputation  actually  went  to  examine,  and  found  it — 
carried  off  again  !*  An  accui'sed,  incurable  brood  ;  all  asking 
for  'passports,'  in  these  sacred  days.  Trouble,  of  rioting, 
chateau-burning,  as  in  the  Limousin  and  elsewhere  ;  for  they 
are  busy  !  Between  the  best  of  Peoples  and  the  best  of  Re- 
storer Kings,  they  would  sow  grudges  ;  with  Avhat  a  fiend's 
grin  would  they  see  this  Federation,  looked  for  by  the  Uni- 
verse, fail ! 

Fail  for  want  of  spadework,  however,  it  shall  not.  He  that 
has  four  limbs  and  a  French  heart,  can  do  spadework  ;  and 
will !  On  the  first  July  Monday,  scarcely  has  the  signal-can- 
non boomed ;  scarcely  have  the  languescent  mercenary  Fif- 
teen Tliousand  laid  down  their  tools,  and  the  eyes  of  onlook- 
ers turned  sorrowfully  to  the  still  high  Sun  ;  when  this  and 
the  other  Patriot,  fire  in  his  eye,  snatches  barrow  and  mat- 
tock, and  himself  begins  indignantly  wheeling.  Whom 
scores  and  then  hundreds  follow  ;  and  soon  a  volunteer  Fif- 
*  23(1  Dercmbor,  17df)  'Xevspnpes  i;i  I!ist    Tarl    iv.  44). 


AS  m  THE  AGE  OF  GOLD.  331 

teen  Thousaud  are  slioveling  and  trundling  ;  with  the  heart 
of  giants  :  and  all  in  right  order,  with  that  extemporaneous 
adroitness  of  theirs  :  whereby  such  a  lift  has  been  given, 
worth  three  mercenary  ones  ;  which  may  end  when  the  late 
twilight  thickens,  in  triumph  shouts,  heard  or  heard  of  be- 
yond Montmartre  ! 

A  sympathetic  population  Avill  ivaif.,  next  day,  with  eager- 
ness, till  the  tools  are  free.  Or  why  wait?  Spades  elsewhere 
exist !  And  so  now  bursts  forth  that  effulgence  of  Parisian 
enthusiasm,  good-heartedness  and  brotherly  love  ;  such,  if 
Chroniclers  are  trustworthy,  as  was  not  witnessed  since  the 
A^e  of  Gold.  Paris,  male  and  female,  precipitates  itself  to- 
wards its  South-west  extremity,  spade  on  shoulder.  Streams 
of  men,  without  order  ;  or  in  order,  as  ranked  fellow-crafts- 
men, as  natm-al  or  accidental  reunions,  march  towards  the 
Field  of  Mars.  Thi-ee-deep  these  march  ;  to  the  sound  of 
stringed  music  ;  preceded  by  young  girls  with  green  boughs, 
and  tricolor  streamers  :  they  have  shouldered,  soldier-wise, 
their  shovels  and  picks  ;  and  with  one  throat  are  singing 
<-a-ira.  Yes,  pardieii,  ra-ira,  cry  the  passengers  on  the  streets. 
All  corporate  Guilds,  and  public  and  private  Bodies  of  ■  Citi- 
zens from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  march ;  the  veiy  Hawk- 
ers, one  finds,  have  ceased  bawling,  for  one  day.  The  neigh- 
bouring Villages  turn  out  :  their  able  men  come  marching,  to 
village  fiddle  or  tambourine  and  triangle,  under  their  Mayor, 
or  Mayor  and  Curate,  who  also  walk  bespaded,  and  in  tri- 
color sash.  As  many  as  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  work- 
ers :  nay,  at  certain  seasons,  as  some  count,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand ;  for,  in  the  afternoon  especially,  what  mortal 
but,  finishing  his  hasty  day's  work,  would  run  ?  A  stirring 
City  :  from  the  time  you  reach  the  Place  Louis-Quinze,  south- 
ward over  the  Eiver,  by  all  Avenues,  it  is  one  living  throng. 
So  many  workers  ;  and  no,  mercenary  mock-workers,  but  real 
ones  that  lie  freely  to  it :  each  Patriot  stretches  himself  against 
the  stubborn  glebe  ;  hews  and  wheels  with  the  whole  weight 
that  is  in  him. 

Amiable  infants,  amiables  enfans!  They  do  the  'police  de 
V atelier '  too,  the  e:uidanc9  and  p^overnance,  themselves  ;  with 


332  THE  FEASl'   OF  PIKES. 

that  ready  will  of  theirs,  with  that  extemporaneous  adroit- 
ness. It  is  a  true  brethren's  work  ;  all  distinctions  con- 
founded, abolished  ;  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  when  Adam 
himself  delved.  Long-frocked  tonsured  Monks,  with  short- 
skirted  Water-carriers,  with  swallow- tailed  well-frizzled  Li- 
rroi/ables  of  a  Patriot  turn  ;  dark  Charcoalmen,  meal- white 
Peruke-makers  ;  or  Peruke-wearers,  for  Advocate  and  Judge 
are  there,  and  all  Heads  of  Districts  :  sober  Nuns  sisterlike 
with  flaunting  nymphs  of  the  Opera,  and  females  in  common 
circumstances  named  unfortunate :  the  patriot  Rag-picker, 
and  perfumed  dweller  in  palaces  ;  for  Patiiotism  like  New- 
birth,  and  also  like  Death,  levels  all.  The  Printers  have  come 
marching,  Prudhomme's  all  in  Paper-caps  with  EevohUions  de 
Paris  printed  on  them  ; — as  Camille  notes ;  wishing  that  in 
these  great  days  there  should  be  a  Parte  des  Ecrivains  too, 
or  Federation  of  Able  Editors.*  Beautiful  to  see  !  The 
snowy  linen  and  delicate  pantaloon  alternates  Avith  the  soiled 
check-shirt  and  bushel-breeches ;  for  both  have  cast  their 
coats,  and  under  both  are  four  limbs  and  a  set  of  Patriot 
muscles.  There  do  they  pick  and  shovel ;  or  bend  forward, 
yoked  in  long  strings  to  box-barrow  or  overloaded  tumbril ; 
joyous,  with  one  mind.  Abbe  Sieyes  is  seen  piilling,  wiry, 
vehement,  if  too  Hght  for  draught  ;  by  the  side  of  Beauharnais, 
who  shall  get  Kings  though  he  be  none.  Abbe  Maury  did 
not  pull  ;  but  the  Charcoalmen  brought  a  mummer  guised 
like  him,  and  he  had  to  pull  in  effigy.  Let  no  august  Sena- 
tor disdain  the  woi'k  :  Mayor  Bailly,  Generalissimo  Lafayette 
are  there  ; — and,  alas,  shall  be  there  arjain  another  day !  The 
King  himself  comes  to  see  :  sky-rending  Vive-le-roi ;  '  and 
'  suddenly  Avith  shouldered  spades  they  form  a  guard  of  hon- 
'  our  round  him.'  Whosoever  can  come,  comes  ;  to  work,  or 
to  look,  and  bless  the  work. 

Whole  families  have  come.  One  whole  family  we  see 
clearly  of  three  generations :  the  father  picking,  the  mother 
shoveling,  the  young  ones  wheeling  assiduous  ;  old  grand- 
father, hoary  with  ninety-three  years,  holds  in  his  arms  the 
youngest  of  all ;  f  frisky,  not  helpful  this  one  ;  who  neverthe- 

*  Srr  Xe^rs^appl•P,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  381-400).    f  Mercier,  ii.  76,  &a 


AS  IN  THE  AGE  OF   GOLD.  333 

less  may  tell  it  to  las  giandcliiidren  ;  and  bow  the  Future 
and  the  Past  alike  looked  on,  and  with  failing  or  with  half- 
formed  voice  falter  their  ra-ira.  A  vintner  has  wheeled  in, 
on  Patriot  truck,  beverage  of  wine  :  "  Drink  not,  my  broth- 
ers, if  ye  are  not  thirsty  ;  that  your  cask  may  last  the  longer :  " 
neither  did  any  drink  but  men  '  evidently  exhausted.'  A  dap- 
per Abbe  looks  on,  sneering  :  "To  the  barrow  !  "  cry  several ; 
whom  he,  lest  a  worse  thing  befal  him,  obeys  :  nevertheless 
one  wiser  Patriot  barrowman,  arriving  now,  interposes  his 
"arretez;"  setting  down  his  own  barrow,  he  snatches  the 
Abb6's  ;  trundles  it  fast,  like  an  infected  thing,  forth  of  the 
Champ-de-Mars  circuit,  and  discharges  it  there.  Thus  too  a 
certain  person  (of  some  quality',  or  private  capital,  to  ajDpear- 
ance),  entering  hastily,  flings  down  his  coat,  waistcoat  and 
two  watches,  and  is  rushing  to  the  thick  of  the  work  :  "But 
your  watches?"  cried  the  general  voice. — "  Does  one  distrust 
his  brothers  ?  "  answers  he  ;  nor  were  the  watches  stolen. 
How  beautiful  is  noble-sentiment :  like  gossamer  gauze,  beavi- 
tiful  and  cheap  ;  which  will  stand  no  tear  and  wear  !  Beau- 
tiful cheap  gossamer  gauze,  thou  film-shadow  of  a  raw-mate- 
rial of  Virtue,  which  art  not  Avoven,  nor  likely  to  be,  into  Duty  ; 
thou  art  better  than  nothing,  and  also  worse  ! 

Young  Boarding-school  boys.  College  Students,  shout  Vive 
la  Nation,  and  regret  that  they  have  3'et  '  only  their  sweat  to 
give.'  "What  say  we  of  Boys  ?  Beautifullest  Hebes  ;  the  love- 
liest of  Paris,  in  their  light  air-robes  with  riband-girdle  of 
tricolor  are  there  ;  shoveling  and  wheeling  with  the  rest  ; 
their  Hebe  eyes  brighter  with  enthusiasm,  and  long  hair  in 
beautiful  dishevelment ;  hard-pressed  ai-e  their  small  fingers  ; 
but  they  make  the  patriot  barrow  go,  and  even  force  it  to  the 
summit  of  the  slope  (with  a  little  tracing,  which  what  man's 
arm  were  not  too  happy  to  lend  ?) — then  bound  down  with  it 
again,  and  go  for  more  ;  with  their  long  locks  and  tricolors 
blown  back  :  graceful  as  the  rosy  Hours.  O,  as  that  evening- 
Sun  fell  over  the  Champ-de-Mars,  and  tinted  with  fire  the 
thick  unbrageous  boscage  that  shelters  it  on  this  hand  and  on 
that,  and  struck  direct  on  those  Domes  and  two-and-forty 
W^indows  of  the  Ecole  Militaire,  and  made  them  all  of  burn- 


334:  THE  FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

ished  gold, — saw  lie  on  his  wide  zodiac  road  other  such  sight  1 
A  Uviug  garden  spotted  and  dotted  with  such  fiowerage  ;  all 
colours  of  the  prism  ;  the  beautifullest  blent  friendly  with  the 
usefullest ;  all  growing  and  working  brother-like  there,  under 
one  warm  feeling,  were  it  but  for  da^'s  ;  once  and  no  second 
time  !  Bat  Night  is  sinking  ;  these  Nights  too,  into  Eternity. 
The  hastiest  traveller  Versailles-ward  has  drawn  bridle  on  the 
heights  of  Chaillot :  and  looked  for  moments  over  the  Eiver  ; 
reporting  at  Versailles  what  he  saw,  not  without  tears.* 

Meanwhile,  from  all  points  of  the  compass,  Federates  are 
arriving :  fervid  children  of  the  South,  '  who  glory  in  their 
Mirabeau  ; '  considerate  North-blooded  Mountaineers  of  Jura  ; 
sharp  Bretons,  with  their  Gaelic  suddenness  ;  Normans  not 
to  be  over-reached  in  bargain  :  all  now  animated  with  one 
noblest  fire  of  Patriotism.  Whom  the  Paris  brethren  march 
forth  to  receive  ;  with  military  solemnities,  with  fi*aternal  em- 
bracing, and  a  hospitality  worthy  of  the  heroic  ages.  They 
assist  at  the  Assembly's  Debates,  these  Federates  :  the  Galler- 
ies are  reserved  for  them.  They  assist  in  the  toils  of  the 
Champ-de-Mars  ;  each  new  troop  will  put  its  hand  to  the 
spade  ;  lift  a  hod  of  earth  on  the  Altar  of  the  Fatherland. 
But  the  flourishes  of  Rhetoric,  for  it  is  a  gesticulating  People  ; 
the  moral-sublime  of  those  Addresses  to  an  august  Assembly, 
to  a  Patriot  Restorer!  Our  Breton  Captain  of  Federates 
kneels  even,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  gives  up  his  sword  ; 
he  wet-eyed  to  a  King  wet-eyed.  Poor  Louis  !  These,  as  he 
said  afterwards,  were  among  the  bright  days  of  his  life. 

Reviews  also  there  must  be  ;  royal  Federate-reviews,  with 
King,  Queen  and  tricolor  Court  looking  on  :  at  lowest,  if,  as 
is  too  common,  it  rains,  our  Federate  Volunteers  will  file 
through  the  inner  gateways  RoA'alty  standing  diy.  Nay 
there,  should  some  stop  occur,  the  beautifullest  fingers  iu 
France  may  take  you  softly  by  the  lapelle,  and,  in  mild  flute- 
voice,  ask:  "Monsieur,  of  what  Pro^-ince  are  you  ? "  Happy 
he  who  can  reply,  chivah-ously  lowering  his  sword's  point, 
"Madame,  from  the  Province  your  ancestors  reigned  over.' 
*  Mercier,  ii.  81. 


SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  335 

He  that  happy  '  Proviucial  Advocate,'  now  Provincial  Federate, 
shall  be  rewarded  by  a  sun-smile,  and  such  melodious  glad 
words  addressed  to  a  King  :  "  Sire,  these  are  yom-  faithful 
Lorrainers."  Cheerier,  verily,  in  these  holidays,  is  this,  '  sk}'- 
blue  faced  with  red '  of  a  National  Guardsman,  than  the  dull 
black  and  grny  of  a  Pro\dncial  Advocate,  which  in  workdays 
one  was  used  to.  For  the  same  thrice-blessed  Lorrainer  shall, 
this  evening,  stand  sentry  at  a  Queen  s  door ;  and  feel  that  he 
could  die  a  thousand  deaths  for  her  :  then  again,  at  the  outer 
gate,  and  even  a  third  time,  she  shall  see  him  :  nay  he  will 
make  her  do  it  ;  presenting  arms  with  emphasis,  '  making  his 
musket  jingle  again  : '  and  in  her  salute  there  shall  again  be  a 
sun-smile,  and  that  little  blonde-locked  too  hasty  Dauphin 
shall  be  admonished,  "  Salute  then,  Monsieur,  don't  be  unjDO- 
lite  ; "  and  therewith  she,  hke  a  bright  sky- wanderer  or  Planet 
with  her  httle  Moon,  issues  forth  peculiar.* 

But  at  night,  when  Patriot  spadework  is  over,  figure  the 
sacred  rites  of  hospitality  !  Lepelletier  Saint-Fargeau,  a  mere 
private  senator,  but  with  gTeat  possessions,  has  daily  his  '  hun- 
dred dinner-guests ; '  the  table  of  Generalissimo  Lafayette  may 
double  that  number.  In  lowly  parlour,  as  in  lofty  saloon,  the 
wine-cup  passes  round  ;  crowned  by  the  smiles  of  Beauty  ;  be 
it  of  lightly-tripping  Grisette,  or  of  high-saihng  Dame,  for 
both  equally  have  beauty,  and  smiles  precious  to  the  brave. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

SOUND      AND      SMOKE, 

And  SO  now,  in  spite  of  plotting  Aristocrats,  lazy  Lired 
spade-men,  and  almost  of  Destiny  itself  (for  there  has  been 
nuich  rain  too),  the  Champ-de-Mars,  on  the  13th  of  the  month, 
is  fairly  ready  :  trimmed,  rammed,  buttressed  with  firm  ma- 
sonry ;  and  Patriotism  can  stroll  over  it  admiring  ;  and  as 
it  were  rehearsing,  fi)r  in  every  head  is  some  unutterable  im- 
age of  the  morrow.  Pray  Heaven  there  be  not  clouds.  Nay, 
what  far  worse  cloud  is  this,  of  a  misguided  Municipality  that 

*  Narrative  by  a  Lorraine  Federate  (given  in  Hist.  Tarl.  vi.  389  91;, 


3.36  TUE   FEAST   OF  PIKES. 

talks  of  admitting  Patriotism,  to  the  solemuit}',  by  tickets  \ 
Was  it  by  tickets  we  were  admitted  to  the  work  ;  and  to  what 
brought  the  work  ?  Did  we  take  the  Bastille  by  tickets  ?  A 
misg-uided  Municipality  sees  the  error ;  at  late  midnight, 
rolling  drums  announce  to  Patriotism  starting  half  out  of  its 
bed-clothes,  that  it  is  to  be  ticketless.  Pull  down  thy  night- 
cap therefore  ;  and,  with  demi  articulate  grumble,  significant 
of  several  things,  go  pacified  to  sleep  again.  To  morrow  is 
Wednesday  morning  ;  unforgettable  among  the  fasli  of  the 
world. 

The  morning  comes,  cold  for  a  July  one  ;  but  such  a  fes- 
ti^ity  would  make  Greenland  smile.  Through  every  inlet  of 
that  National  Amj)itheatre  (for  it  is  a  league  in  circuit,  cut 
with  openings  at  due  intervals),  floods-in  the  living  throng  ; 
covers,  without  tumult,  space  after  space.  The  Ecole  INIilitaire 
has  galleries  and  over-vaulting  canopies,  wherein  Carpentry 
and  Painting  have  vied,  for  the  ujoper  Authorities  ;  triumphal 
arches,  at  the  Gate  by  the  Kiver,  bear  inscriptions,  if  Aveak, 
yet  well-meant,  and  orthodox.  Far  aloft,  over  the  altar  of  the 
Fatherland,  on  their  tall  crane  standards  of  iron,  s-ning  pen- 
sile our  antique  Cassolettes  or  Paus  of  Incense  ;  dispensing 
sweet  incense-fumes, — unless  for  the  Heathen  Mythology,  one 
sees  not  for  whom.  Two  hundred  thousand  Patriotic  Men  ; 
and,  twice  as  good,  one  hundred  thousand  Patriotic  Women, 
all  decked  and  glorified  as  one  cm  fancy,  sit  waiting  in  this 
Champ  de-Mars, 

What  a  i^icture  :  that  circle  of  bright-dyed  Life,  spread  up 
there,  on  its  thirty-seated  Slope  ;  leaning,  one  would  sxj,  on 
the  thick  umbrage  of  those  Avenue-Trees,  for  the  stems  of 
them  are  hidden  by  the  height ;  and  all  beyond  it  mere  green- 
ness of  Summer  Earth,  with  the  gleams  of  waters,  or  white 
sparklings  of  stone-edifices  :  little  circular  enamel-jjicture  in 
the  centre  of  such  a  vase — of  emerald  !  A  vase  not  empty : 
the  Invalides  Cupolas  want  not  their  population,  nor  the  dis- 
tant Windmills  of  Montmartre  ;  on  remotest  steeple  and  in- 
visible village  belfi-y,  stand  men  with  spy-glasses.  On  the 
heights  of  Chaillot  are  many-coloured  undulating   groups ; 


sor^'n  and  smoke.  337 

1  luud  and  far  on,  over  all  the  cii'cling  heights  that  embosom 
Paris,  it  is  as  one  more  or  less  peopled  Amphitheatre  ;  which 
the  eye  grows  dim  "nith  measuring.  Nay  heights,  as  was  be- 
fore hinted,  have  cannon  ;  and  a  floating-battery  of  cannon  i.i 
on  the  Seine.  When  eye  fails,  ear  shall  serve ;  and  all  France 
properly  is  but  one  Amphitheatre  ;  for  in  paved  town  and  un- 
paved  hamlet,  men  walk  hstening  ;  till  the  muffled  thunder 
sound  audible  on  their  horizon,  that  they  too  may  begin 
swearing  and  firing  !  *  But  now,  to  streams  of  music,  come 
Federates  enough, — for  they  have  assembled  on  the  Boulevard 
Saint-Antoine  or  thereby,  and  come  marching  through  the 
City,  with  their  Eighty-three  Department  Banners,  and  bless- 
ings not  loud  but  deep  ;  comes  National  Assembly,  and  takes 
seat  under  its  Canopy ;  comes  Royalty,  and  takes  seat  on 
a  throne  beside  it.  And  Lafayette,  on  white  charger,  is 
here,  and  all  the  civic  Functionaries  ;  and  the  Federates  form 
dances,  till  their  strictly  military  evolutions  and  manoeuvres 
can  begin. 

Evolutions  and  manoeu^Tes?  Task  not  the  pen  of  mortal  to 
describe  them  :  truant  imagination  droops  ; — declares  that  it 
is  not  worth  while.  There  is  wheeling  and  sweeping,  to  slow, 
to  quick,  and  double-quick  time  :  Sieur  Motier,  or  Generalis- 
simo Lafayette,  for  they  are  one  and  the  same,  and  he  is 
General  of  France,  in  the  King's  stead,  for  four-and-twenty 
hours  ;  Sieur  Motier  must  stej)  forth,  with  that  sublime  chival- 
rous gait  of  his  ;  solemnly  ascend  the  steps  of  the  Father- 
lands  iUtar,  in  sight  of  Heaven  and  of  the  scarcely  breathing 
E  u-th  ;  and,  under  the  creak  of  those  swinging  CassoleUe,^ 
'  pressing  his  sword's  point  firmly  there,'  pronounce  the  Oath 
To  King,  to  Law,  and  Nation  (not  to  mention  'grains'  with 
their  circulating),  in  his  own  name  and  that  of  armed  France. 
Whereat  there  is  waving  of  banners,  and  acclaim  sufficient. 
The  National  Assembly  must  sweai-,  standing  in  its  place  ; 
th3  King  himself  audibly.  The  King  swears  ;  and  now  bit 
the  welkin  split  with  vivats  :  let  citizens  enfranchised  embrace, 
each  smiting  heartily  his  palm  into  his  fellow's  ;  and  armed 
Federates  clang  their  arms ;  above  all,  that  floating-batter^ 
*  Deux  Amis,  v.  168. 
Vol,  I— 22 


33 S  TUE  FEAST  OF  PIKES. 

speak  !  It  lias  spoken, — to  the  four  corners  of  France.  From 
eminence  to  eminence,  bursts  the  thunder  ;  faint-heard,  loud- 
repeated.  What  a  stone,  cast  into  -what  a  lake  ;  in  circles 
that  do  not  grow  fainter.  From  Ari-as  to  Avignon  ;  from  Metz 
to  Bayonne  !  Over  Orleans  and  Blois  it  rolls,  in  cannon  reci- 
tative ;  Puy  bellows  of  it  amid  his  granite  mountains  ;  Pan 
where  is  the  shell  cradle  of  Great  Henri.  At  far  Marseilles, 
one  can  think,  the  ruddy  evening  witnesses  it ;  over  the  deep 
blue  Mediterranean  waters,  the  Castle  of  If  ruddy  tinted  darts 
forth,  from  every  cannon's  month,  its  tongue  of  fire  ;  and  all 
the  j)eople  shout ;  Yes,  France  is  free,  O  glorious  France, 
that  has  burst  out  so  :  into  universal  sound  and  smoke  ;  and 
attained — the  Phrygian  Cajy  of  Liberty  !  In  all  Toa^tis,  Trees 
of  Liberty  also  may  be  planted  :  with  or  without  advantage. 
Said  we  not,  it  was  the  highest  stretch  attained  by  the  Thes- 
pian Art  on  tins  Planet,  or  perhaps  attainable  ? 

The  Thespian  Art,  unfortunately,  one  must  still  call  it ;  for 
behold  there,  on  this  Field  of  Mars,  the  National  Banners,  be- 
fore there  could  be  any  swearing,  were  to  be  all  blessed.  A 
most  proper  operation  ;  since  surely  without  Heaven's  bless- 
ing bestowed,  say  even,  audibly  or  inaudibly  sought,  no 
Earthly  banner  or  contrivance  can  prove  victorious  :  but  now 
the  means  of  doing  it?  By  what  thi-ice-divine  Franklin 
thunder-rod  shall  miraculous  fire  be  drawn  out  of  Heaven  ; 
and  descend  gently,  lifegiving,  with  health  to  the  souls  of 
men  ?  Alas,  by  the  simplest :  by  Two  Hundred  shaven- 
crowned  Individuals,  '  in  snow-white  albs,  with  tricolor  gir- 
dles,' arranged  on  the  steps  of  Fatherland's  Altar  ;  and  at 
their  head  for  spokesman.  Soul's  Overseer  Talleyrand  Peri- 
gord !  These  shall  act  as  miraculous  thunder-rod,  —to  such 
length  as  they  can.  O  ye  deep  azui*e  Heavens,  and  thou  green 
aU-nursing  Earth  ;  3'e  Streams  ever-flowing  ;  deciduous  For- 
ests that  die  and  are  born  again,  continually,  like  the  sons  of 
men  ;  stone  Mountains  that  die  daily  with  every  rain  shower, 
yet  are  not  dead  and  levelled  for  ages  of  ages,  nor  born  again 
(it  seems)  but  with  new  world-explosions,  and  such  tumultu- 
ous seething  and  tumbling,  steam  half  way  to  the  Moon  ;  O 
thou  tmfathomable  mystic  All,  garment  and  dwellingplacc  of 


SOUND  AND  SMOKE.  3.39 

the  Unnamed  ;  and  thou,  articulate-speakiug  Spiiit  of  Man, 
who  mouklest  and  modellest  that  Unfathomable  Unnameable 
even  as  we  see, — is  not  there  a  mh'acle  :  That  some  French 
mortal  should,  we  say  not  have  believed,  but  pretended  to 
imagine  he  believed  that  Talleyrand  and  Two  Hundred  pieces 
of  white  Calico  could  do  it ! 

Here,  however,  we  are  to  remark  with  the  sorrovv^ing  His- 
torians of  that  day,  that  suddenly,  while  Episcopus  Talleyrand, 
long-stoled,  with  mitre  and  tricolor  belt,  was  yet  but  hitching 
up  the  Altar-steps,  to  do  his  miracle,  the  material  Heaven 
grew  black  ;  a  north-wind,  moaning  cold  moisture,  began  to 
sing  ;  and  there  descended  a  very  deluge  of  rain.  Sad  to  see  ! 
The  thirty-staired  Seats,  round  our  Amphitheatre,  get  instan- 
taneously slated  with  mere  umbrellas,  fallacious  when  so  thick 
set :  our  antique  Cassolettes  become  water-pots  ;  their  incense- 
smoke  gone  hissing,  in  a  whiff  of  muddy  vapour.  Alas,  in- 
stead of  vivats,  there  is  nothing  now  but  the  furious  pepper- 
ing and  rattling.  From  three  to  four  hundred  thousand 
human  individuals  feel  that  they  have  a  skin  ;  happily  i??iper- 
vious.  The  General's  sash  runs  water  :  how  all  military  ban- 
ners droop  ;  and  will  not  wave,  but  lazily  flap,  as  if  metamor- 
phosed into  painted  tin-banners!  Worse,  far  worse,  these 
hundred  thousand,  such  is  the  Historian's  testimony,  of  the 
fairest  of  France !  Their  snowy  muslins  all  sploshed  and 
draggled  ;  the  ostrich  feather  shrunk  shamefully  to  the  back- 
bone of  a  feather  :  all  caps  are  ruined  ;  innermost  pasteboard 
molten  into  its  original  pap  :  Beauty  no  longer  swims  deco- 
rated in  her  garniture,  hke  Love-goddess  hidden-revealed  in 
her  Paphian  clouds,  but  struggles  in  disastrous  imprisonment 
in  it,  for  '  the  shape  was  noticeable  ; '  and  now  only  sympa- 
thetic interjections,  titterings,  tee-heeings,  and  resolute  good- 
humour  will  avail.  A  deluge  ;  an  incessant  sheet  or  fluid- 
column  of  rain  ; — such  that  our  Overseer's  very  mitre  must  be 
filled  ;  not  a  mitre,  but  a  filled  and  leaky  fire-bucket  on  his 
reverend  head  ! — Kegardless  of  which,  Overseer  Talleyrand 
perfoi-ms  his  miracle  ;  the  Blessing  of  Talleyrand,  another 
than  that  of  Jacob,  is  on  all  the  Eight3--three  departmental 
flags  of  France ;  which  wave  or  flap,  vath  such  thankfulness 


C40  TIII-J  Fl'JASr   OF  PIKl'JS. 

as  needs.  Towards  three  o'clock,  the  sun  beams  out  again . 
the  retnainiug  evolutions  can  be  transacted  under  bright 
heavens,  though  with  decorations  much  damaged.* 

On  Wednesday  our  Fedei-ation  is  consummated  :  but  the 
festivities  last  out  the  week,  and  over  into  the  next.  Festiv- 
ities such  as  no  Bagdad  Caliph,  or  Aladdin  with  the  Lamii, 
could  have  equalled.  There  is  a  Jousting  on  the  River  ;  wdth 
its  water-somersets,  splashing  and  haha-ing  :  Abbe  Fauchet, 
Te  Deum  Fauchet,  preaches,  for  his  part,  in  '  the  rotunda  of 
the  Cornmarket,'  a  funeral  harangue  on  Franklin  ;  for  whom 
the  National  Assembly  has  lately  gone  three  days  in  black. 
The  Motier  and  Lepelletier  tables  still  groan  with  viands  ; 
roofs  ringing  with  patriotic  toasts.  On  the  fifth  evening, 
which  is  the  Christian  Sabbath,  there  is  a  universal  Ball. 
Paris,  out  of  doors  and  in,  man,  woman  and  child,  is  jigging 
it,  to  the  sound  of  harjD  and  foui'-stringed  fiddle.  The  hoariest- 
headed  man  will  tread  one  other  measure,  under  this  nether 
moon  ;  speechless  nurselings,  infants  as  we  call  them,  vrj-ma 
rcKva,  crow  in  arms  ;  and  sjn-awl  out  numb-plumb  little  limbs, 
— impatient  for  muscularity,  they  know  not  why.  The  stillest 
balk  bends  more  or  less  ;  all  joists  crealf . 

Or  out,  on  the  Earth's  breast  itself,  behold  the  ruins  of  the 
Bastille.  All  lamplit,  allegorically  decorated  ;  a  Tree  of  Lil> 
erty  sixty  feet  high  ;  and  Phrygian  Cap  on  it,  of  size  enor- 
mous, under  which  King  Arthur  and  his  round-table  might 
have  dined  !  In  the  depths  of  the  backgi'ound,  is  a  single 
lugubrious  lamp,  rendering  dim-visible  one  of  your  iron  cages, 
half-buried,  and  some  Prison  stones, — Tyranny  vanishing 
downwards,  all  gone  but  the  skirt  :  the  rest  wholly  lamp- 
festoons,  trees  real  or  of  pasteboard ;  in  the  similitude  of  a  fairy 
grove  ;  with  this  iuscrijition,  readable  to  runner  :  '  fci  Von 
(hnuM'.,  Dancing  Here.'  As  indeed  had  been  obscurely  fore- 
shadowed by  Cagiiostro  f  prophet-Quack  of  Quacks,  when  he, 
four  years  ago,  quitted  the  grim  durance  ; — to  fall  into  a 
grimmer,  of  the  Roman  Inquisition,  and  not  quit  it. 

But,  after  all,  what  is  this  Bistillc  business  to  that  of  the 
Champs  Ehjs'ea  !    Thither,  to  these  Fields  well  named  Elysian, 

*  Deux  Amis,  v.  143-1 79.  f  Sec  liis  Lettre  au  Peuplc  Fran^.ais. 


SOl'XD  AXD  SMOKE.  041 

all  feet  tend.  It  is  radiant  as  day  with  festooned  lamps  ;  Ut- 
ile oil-cups,  like  variegated  fire-flies,  daintly  illume  the  highest 
leaves  :  trees  there  are  all  sheeted  -with  variegated  fire,  shed- 
ding far  a  glimmer  into  the  dubious  wood.  There,  under  the 
free  sky,  do  tight-limbed  Federates,  with  fairest  newfound 
sweethearts  elastic  as  Diana,  and  not  of  that  coj-ness  and  tart 
humour  of  Diana,  thread  their  jocund  mazes,  all  through  the 
ambrosial  night  ;  and  hearts  were  touched  and  fired  ;  and 
seldom  surely  had  our  old  Planet,  in  that  huge  conic  Shadow 
of  hers  '  which  goes  beyond  the  Moon,  and  is  named  Night,' 
curtained  such  a  Ball-room.  O  if,  according  to  Seneca,  the 
very  gods  look  down  on  a  good  man  struggling  with  adversity, 
and  smile  ;  what  must  they  think  of  Five-and-twenty  million 
indifi:erent  ones  victorious  over  it, — for  eight  days  and  more  ? 

In  this  way,  and  in  such  ways,  however,  has  the  Feast  of 
Pikes  danced  itself  ofi" :  gallant  Federates  wending  homewards, 
towards  every  point  of  the  compass,  with  feverish  nerves, 
heart  and  head  much  heated  ;  some  of  them,  indeed,  as  Damp- 
martin's  elderly  respectable  friend,  from  Strasburg,  quite 
'  burnt  out  with  liquors,'  and  flickering  towards  extinction.* 
The  Feast  of  Pikes  has  danced,  itself  off,  and  become  defunct, 
and  the  ghost  of  a  Feast ; — nothing  of  it  now  remaining  but 
this  vision  in  men's  memory  ;  and  the  place  that  knew  it  (for 
the  slope  of  that  Champ-de-Mars  is  crumbled  to  half  the  origi- 
nal height)  f  now  knowing  it  no  more.  Undoubtedly  one  of 
the  memorablest  National  Hightides.  Never  or  hardly  ever, 
as  we  said,  was  Oath  sworn  with  such  heart-effusion,  empha- 
sis and  expenditure  of  joyance  ;  and  then  it  was  broken  irre- 
mediably within  year  and  day.  Ah,  why  ?  "When  the  svv-ear- 
ing  of  it  was  so  heavenly  joyful,  bosom  clasped  to  bosom,  and 
Five-and-twenty  miUion  hearts  all  burning  together  ;  O  ye 
inexorable  Destinies,  why  ? — Partly  because  it  was  sworn  with 
such  overjoyance  ;  but  chiefly,  indeed,  for  an  older  reason  : 
that  Sin  had  come  into  the  world  and  Misery  by  Sin  !  These 
Five-and-twenty  millions,  if  we  will  consider  it,   have  now 

*  Dampmartin  :   Ev  ncmeiis,  i.  144-184. 
t  Dulaure  :   Ilistoiie  du  Tari-s,  viii.  25. 


•  >'r2  Tin:  FEAST  OF  mCFS. 

heucefortli,  with  that  Plnygian  CajD  of  theirs,  no  force  ovef 
thein,  to  bind  and  guide  ;  neither  in  them,  more  than  hereto- 
fore, is  guiding  force,  or  rule  of  just  hving  :  how  then,  while 
they  all  go  rushing  at  such  a  ^^cice,  on  unknown  ways,  with  no 
biidle,  towards  no  aim,  can  hurlybiu-ly  unutterable  fail  ?  For 
verily  not  Federation-roseiiink  is  the  colour  of  this  Earth  and 
her  work  :  not  by  outbursts  of  noble-sentiment,  but  with  far 
other  ammunition,  shall  a  man  front  the  world. 

But  how  wise,  in  all  cases,  to  '  husband  j-our  fire  ; '  to  keep 
it  deep  down,  rather,  as  genial  radical-heat !  Explosions,  the 
forciblest,  and  never  so  well  directed,  are  questionable  ;  far 
oftenest  futile,  always  frightfully  wasteful :  but  think  of  a 
man,  of  a  Nation  of  men,  spending  its  whole  stock  of  fire  in 
one  artificial  Firework  !  So  have  we  seen  fond  Aveddings  (for 
individuals,  like  Nations,  have  their  Hightides)  celebrated 
with  an  outburst  of  triumph  and  deray,  at  which  the  elderly 
shook  their  heads.  Better  had  a  serious  cheerfulness  been  ; 
for  the  enterprise  was  great.  Fond  pair  !  the  more  trium- 
phant ye  feel,  and  victorious  over  terrestrial  evil,  which  seems 
all  abolished,  the  wider-eyed  will  your  disai)poiutment  be  to 
find  terrestrial  evil  still  extant.  "  And  why  extant  ?  "  will 
each  of  you  cry :  "  Because  my  false  mate  has  played  the 
traitor  :  evil  was  abolished  ;  I,  for  one,  meant  faithfully,  and 
did,  or  would  have  done  !  "  Whereby  the  oversweet  moon  of 
honey  changes  itself  into  long  3'ears  of  vinegar  ;  perhaps 
divulsive  vinegar,  like  Hannibal's. 

Shall  we  say  then,  the  French  Nation  has  led  Royalty,  or 
wooed  and  teased  j^oor  Royalty  to  lead  hei%  to  the  hymeneal 
Fatherland's  Altai',  in  such  oversweet  manner ;  and  has,  most 
thoughtlessly,  to  celebrate  the  nuptials  with  due  shine  and 
demonstration, — burnt  her  bed? 


BOOK  IX. 


NANCI. 
CHAPTER    I. 

BOUILLlS. 

Dimly  visible,  at  Metz  on  the  Nortli-Eastern  frontier,  a  cer- 
tain brave  Bouille,  last  refuge  of  Royalty  in  all  straits  and 
meditations  of  flight,  has  for  many  months  hovered  occasion- 
ally in  our  eye  ;  some  name  or  shadow  of  a  brave  Bouille  : 
let  us  now,  for  a  little,  look  fixedly  at  him,  till  he  become  a 
substance  and  person  for  us.  The  man  himself  is  worth  a 
glance  ;  his  position  and  procedure  there,  in  these  days,  wiU 
throw  light  on  many  things. 

For  it  is  with  Bouille  as  with  all  French  Commanding  Ofid- 
cers  :  only  in  a  more  emphatic  degree.  The  grand  National 
Federation,  we  already  guess,  was  but  empty  sound,  or  worse  : 
a  last  loudest  universal  Hep-hep -hurrah,  with  full  bumpers,  in 
that  National  Lapithre-feast  of  Constitution-making  ;  as  in 
loud  denial  of  the  palpably  existing  :  as  if,  with  hurrahings, 
you  would  shut  out  notice  of  the  inevitable,  already  knocking 
at  the  gates  !  Which  new  National  bumper,  one  may  say,  can 
but  deepen  the  drunkenness  ;  and  so,  the  louder  it  swoars 
Brotherhood,  will  the  sooner  and  the  more  surely  lead  to 
Cannibalism.  Ah,  under  that  fraternal  shine  and  clangour, 
what  a  deep  world  of  irreconcileable  discords  lie  momentarily 
assuaged,  damped  down  for  one  moment !  Respectable  mili- 
tary Federates  have  barely  got  home  to  their  quarters  ;  and 
the  inflammablest,  *  dying,  burnt  up  with  liquors,  and  kind- 
ness,' has  not  yet  got  extinct ;  the  shine  is  hardly  out  of  men's 
eyes,  and  still  blazes  filling  all  men's  memories, — when  your 


314:  NANCr. 

discords  burst  forth  again  very  considerably  darker  than  ever, 
Let  us  look  at  Bouille,  and  see  how. 

Bouille  for  the  present  commands  in  the  Garrison  of  Metz, 
and  far  and  wide  over  the  East  and  North  ;  being  indeed,  by 
a  late  act  of  Government  with  sanction  of  National  /Assembly, 
appointed  one  of  our  four  supreme  Generals.  Eochambeau 
and  Mailly,  men  and  ^Marshals  of  note  in  these  days,  though 
to  us  of  small  moment,  are  two  of  his  colleagues  ;  tough  old 
babbling  Liickner,  also  of  small  moment  for  us,  will  probably 
be  the  third.  Marquis  de  Bouille  is  a  determined  Loyalist ; 
not  indeed  disinclined  to  moderate  reform,  but  resolute 
against  immoderate.  A  man  long  suspect  to  Patriotism  ;  who 
has  more  than  once  given  the  august  Assembly  trouble  ;  who 
would  not,  for  example,  take  the  National  Oath,  as  he  was 
bound  to  do,  but  always  put  it  off  on  this  or  the  other  pretext, 
till  an  autograph  of  Majesty  requested  him  to  do  it  as  a  favour. 
There,  in  this  post  if  not  of  honour,  yet  of  eminence  and  dan- 
ger, he  waits,  in  a  silent  concentrated  manner  ;  veiy  dubious 
of  the  future.  '  Alone,'  ns  he  says,  or  almost  alone,  of  all  the 
old  mditary  Notabilities,  he  has  not  emigrated  :  but  thinks 
always,  in  atrabiliar  moments,  that  thei-e  will  be  nothing  for 
liim  too  but  to  cross  the  marches.  He  might  cross,  say,  to 
Treves  or  Coblentz,  where  Exiled  Piinces  will  bo  one  day 
ranking  ;  or  say,  over  into  Luxemburg,  where  old  Broglie 
loiters  and  languishes.  Or  is  there  not  the  great  dim  Deep 
of  European  diplomacy  ;  where  your  Calonnes,  your  Breteuils 
are  beginning  to  hover,  dimly  discernible  ? 

W'itli  immeasurable  confused  outbreaks  and  purposes,  with 
no  clear  pui-pose  but  this  of  still  trying  to  do  his  ilajesty  a 
scn'ice,  Bouille  waits  ;  struggling  what  he  can  to  keep  his 
district  loyal,  his  troops  faithful,  his  garrisons  furnished.  Ke 
maintains,  as  yet,  with  his  Cousin  Lafayette,  some  thin  diplo- 
matic con-espondence,  by  letter  and  messenger  ;  chivalrous 
constitutional  professions  on  the  one  side,  military  gravity 
and  brevity  on  the  other  ;  which  thin  coi-respondence  one  can 
see  gi'owing  ever  the  thinner  and  hollower,  towards  the  vergo 
of  entire  vacuity.*  A  quick,  choleric,  shai-ply  discerning,  stub- 
*  Eouill" :   Mciuoires  (Loudon,  1797),  i    c.  8. 


ARREARS  AND  ARISTOCRATS.  345 

bornly  endeavouring  man  ;  Avith  suppressed- explosive  resolu- 
tion, with  valour-,  nay,  headlong  audacity  :  a  man  who  was 
more  in  his  place,  lionlike  defending  those  Windward  Isles, 
or,  as  with  military  tiger-spring,  clutching  Nevis  and  Mont- 
serrat  from  the  Eugiish, — than  here  in  this  supj^ressed  condi- 
tion, muzzled  and  fettered  by  diplomatic  pack-threads  ;  look- 
ing out  for  a  ci\'il  war,  which  may  never  arrive.  Few  years 
ago  Bouille  was  to  have  led  a  French  East- Indian  Expedition, 
and  reconquered  or  conquered  Pondicherri  and  the  Kingdoms 
of  the  Sun  :  but  the  whole  world  is  suddenly  changed,  and 
he  with  it ;  Destiny  willed  it  not  in  that  way,  but  in  this. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ARKE.^RS    AXD    AKISTOCKATS. 

Indeed,  as  to  the  general  outlook  of  things,  Bouille  himself 
augurs  not  well  of  it.  The  French  Ai'my,  ever  since  those  old 
Bastille  days,  and  earlier  has  been  universally  in  the  question- 
ablest  state,  and  growing  daily  worse.  Discipline,  which  is  at 
all  times  a  kind  of  miracle,  and  works  by  faith,  broke  down 
then  ;  one  sees  nob  with  what  near  prospect  of  recovering 
itself.  The  Gardes  Francaises  played  a  deadly  game  ;  but 
how  they  won  it,  and  wear  the  jorizes  of  it,  all  men  know.  In 
that  general  overturn,  we  saw  the  hired  Fighters  refuse  to 
fight.  The  very  Swiss  of  Ch.Ueau-Vieux,  which  indeed  is  a 
kind  of  French  Swiss,  from  Geneva  and  the  Pays  de  Vaud, 
are  understood  to  have  declined  Deserters  glided  over  ;  Eoyal- 
Allemand  itself  looked  disconsolate,  though  staunch  of  pur- 
pose. In  a  word,  we  there  saw  JWditanj  Rule,  in  the  shape  of 
poor  Besenval  with  that  con\'ulsive  unmanageable  Camp  of 
his,  pass  two  martyr  days  on  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  and  then, 
veiling  itself,  so  to  speak,  'under  cloud  of  night,'  depart 
'down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,'  to  seek  refuge  elsewhere  ; 
tliU  ground  having  clearly  become  too  hot  for  it. 

But  what  new  ground  to  seek,  what  remedy  to  try?  Quar- 
ters that  were  '  uninfected  ; '  this  doubtless,  with  judicious 
strictness  of  drilling,  were  the  plan.     Al;is,  in  all  quarters  and 


346  NAXC'L 

places,  from  Paris  onward  to  the  remotest  hamlet,  is  infection, 
is  seditious  contagion  :  inhaled,  propagated  by  contact  and 
converse,  till  the  dullest  soldier  catch  it !  There  is  sj)eech  of 
men  in  uniform  with  men  not  in  uniform  ;  men  in  uniform 
read  journals,  and  even  write  in  them.*  There  are  public 
petitions  or  remonstrances,  private  emissaries  and  associa- 
tions ;  there  is  discontent,  jealousy,  uncertainty,  sullen  sus- 
picious humour.  The  whole  French  Arm}',  fermenting  in 
dark  heat,  glooms  ominous,  boding  good  to  no  one. 

So  that,  in  the  general  social  dissolution  and  revolt,  we  are 
to  have  this  deepest  and  dismallest  kind  of  it,  a  revolting 
soldiery  ?  Barren,  desolate  to  look  ujdou  is  this  same  business 
of  revolt  under  all  its  aspects  ;  but  how  infinitely  more  so, 
when  it  takes  the  aspect  of  military  mutiny !  The  very  im- 
plement of  rule  and  restraint,  whereby  all  the  rest  was  man- 
aged and  held  in  order,  has  become  precisely  the  frightf ullest 
immeasurable  implement  of  misrule  ;  like  the  element  of  Fire, 
our  indispensable  all-ministering  servant,  when  it  gets  the 
mastery,  and  becomes  conflagration.  Discipline  we  called  a 
kind  of  miracle  :  in  fact,  is  it  not  miraculous  how  one  man 
moves  hundreds  of  thousands  ;  each  unit  of  whom  it  may  be 
loves  him  not,  and  singly  fears  him  not,  yet  has  to  obey  him, 
to  go  hither  or  go  thither,  to  march  and  halt,  to  give  death, 
and  even  to  receive  it,  as  if  a  Fate  had  sjioken  ;  and  the  word- 
of-command  becomes,  almost  in  a  literal  sense,  a  magic-word? 

Which  magic- word,  again,  if  it  be  once  forgotten  ;  the  spell 
of  it  once  broken !  The  legions  of  assiduous  ministering 
spirits  rise  on  you  now  as  menacing  fiends  ;  your  free  orderly 
arena  becomes  a  tumult-place  of  the  Nether  Pit,  and  the  hap- 
less magician  is  rent  limb  from  limb.  IVIilitaiy  mobs  are  mobs 
with  muskets  in  their  hands  ;  and  also  with  death  hanging 
over  their  heads,  for  death  is  the  penalty  of  disobedience,  and 
they  have  disobeyed.  And  now  if  all  mobs  are  propei-ly  fren- 
zies, and  woi'k  frenetically,  with  mad  fits  of  hot  and  of  cold, 
fierce  rage  alternating  so  incoherently  with  panic  terror,  con- 
sider what  your  military  mob  will  be,  with  such  a  conflict  of 
duties  and  penjilties,  whirled  between  remorse  and  fury,  and, 
*  See  Newspapers  of  July,  1780  (in  Hist.  Farl.  ii.  35;,  &c. 


ARREARS  AND   ARISTOCRATS.  347 

foi  the  Lot  fit,  loaded  fire-arms  iu  its  hand  !  To  the  soldier 
himself,  revolt  is  frightful,  and  of tenest  perhaps  pitiable  ;  and 
yet  so  dangerous,  it  can  only  be  hated,  cannot  be  pitied.  An 
anomalous  class  of  mortals  these  poor  Hired  Killers  !  With  a 
frankness,  which  to  the  Moralist  iu  these  times  seems  surpris- 
ing, they  have  sworn  to  become  machines  ;  and  nevertheless 
they  are  still  partly  men.  Let  no  prudent  person  in  author- 
ity remind  them  of  this  latter  fact ;  but  always  let  force,  let 
injustice  above  all,  stop  short  clearly  on  thh  side  of  the  re- 
bounding-point !  Soldiers,  as  we  often  say,  do  revolt :  were 
it  not  so,  several  things  which  are  transient  iu  this  world 
might  be  perennial. 

Over  and  above  the  general  quarrel  which  all  sons  of  Adam 
maintain  with  their  lot  here  below,  the  grievances  of  the  French 
soldiery  reduce  themselves  to  two.  First  that  their  Officers  are 
Ai-istocrats ;  secondly  that  they  cheat  them  of  their  Pay.  Two 
grievances  ;  or  rather  we  might  say  one,  cajjable  of  becoming 
a  hundred;  foriu  that  single  first  proposition,  that  the  Ofiicers 
ai-e  Aristocrats,  what  a  multitude  of  corollaries  lie  ready  !  It 
is  a  bottomless  ever-flowing  fountain  of  grievances  this  :  what 
you  may  call  a  general  raw-material  of  grievance,  wherefrom 
individual  grievance  after  grievance  will  daily  body  itself  forth. 
Nay,  there  will  even  be  a  kind  of  comfort  in  getting  it,  from 
time  to  time,  so  embodied.  Peculation  of  one's  Pay  !  It  is 
embodied  ;  made  tangible,  made  denounceable  ;  exhalable,  if 
only  in  angry  words. 

For  unluckily  that  grand  fountain  of  gi-ievances  does  exist  : 
Aristocrats  almost  all  our  Officers  necessarily  are  ;  they  have  it 
in  the  blood  and  bone.  By  the  law  of  the  case,  no  man  can 
pretend  to  be  the  i^itifullest  lieutenant  of  militia,  till  he  have 
first  verified,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Lion-King,  a  Nobility 
of  four  generations.  Not  nobility  only,  but  four  generations 
of  it :  this  latter  is  the  improvement  hit  upon,  in  comparatively 
late  years,  by  a  certain  War-minister  much  pressed  for  com- 
missions.* An  improvement  which  did  relieve  the  ovei'-pi'essed 
War-minister,  but  which  split  France  still  further  into  yawn- 
*  Dampmartiu  :  Eviuemens,  i.  89. 


34S  ^\[ycI. 

ing  contrasts  of  Commonalty  and  Nobility,  nay,  of  new  No» 
Lility  and  old  ;  as  if  already  with  your  new  and  old,  and  then 
with  your  old,  older  and  oldest,  there  were  not  contrasts  and 
discrepancies  enough  ; — the  general  clash  whereof  men  now 
see  and  hear,  and  in  the  singular  whirlpool,  all  contrasts  gone 
together  to  the  bottom  !  Gone  to  the  bottom  or  going  ;  with 
uproar,  ^^ithout  return  ;  going  everywhere  save  in  the  ]\Iilitary 
section  of  things  ;  and  there  it  may  be  asked,  can  they  hope 
to  continue  always  at  the  top  ?     Apparently,  not. 

It  is  ti*ue,  in  a  time  of  external  Peace,  when  there  is  no 
fighting  but  only  diilling,  this  question.  How  you  rise  from  the 
ranks,  may  seem  theoretical  rather.  But  in  reference  to  the 
Eights  of  Man  it  is  continually  practical.  The  soldier  has 
sworn  to  be  faithful  not  to  the  King  only,  but  to  the  Law  and 
the  Nation.  Do  our  commanders  love  the  Revolution  ?  ask  all 
soldiers.  Unhappily  no,  they  hate  it,  and  love  the  Counter- 
Eevolution.  Youug  epauletted  men,  with  cpiality-blood  in 
them,  poisoned  with  quality-piide,  do  sniff  openly,  with  indig- 
nation sti-uggling  to  become  contempt,  at  our  Rights  of  Man, 
as  at  some  newfangled  cobweb,  which  shall  be  brushed  down 
again.  Old  of&cers,  more  cautious,  keep  silent,  with  uncurled 
Hps ;  but  one  guesses  what  is  passing  within.  Nay,  who  knows, 
how,  imder  the  plausiblest  word  of  command,  might  lie  Coun- 
ter-revolution itself,  sale  to  Exiled  Princes  and  the  Austrian 
Kaiser :  treacherous  Aristocrats,  hood-winking  the  small  in- 
sight of  us  common  men  ? — In  such  manner  works  that  general 
raw-mateiial  of  grievance  ;  disastrous  ;  instead  of  trust  and 
reverence,  breeding  hate,  endless  suspicion,  the  impossibihty 
of  commanding  and  obeying.  And  now  when  this  second 
more  tangible  grievance  has  articulated  itself  universally  in 
the  mind  of  the  common  man  :  Peculation  of  his  Pay !  Pecu- 
lation of  the  despicablest  sort  does  exist,  and  has  long  existed  ; 
but,  unless  the  new-declared  Rights  of  Man,  and  all  rights 
whatsoever,  be  a  cobweb,  it  shall  no  longer  exist. 

The  French  ^Military  system  seems  dying  a  sorrowful  suicidal 
death.  Nay,  more,  citizen,  as  is  natural,  ranks  himself  against 
citizen  in  this  cause.  The  soldier  finds  audience,  of  numbers 
and  sympathy  unlimited,  among  the  Patriot  lower-classes.  Nor 


APdlEARS  AND  ARISTOCUArS.  340 

are  the  higher  wanting  to  the  officer.  The  officer  still  dresses 
and  perfumes  himself  for  such  sad  unemigrated  soiree  as  there 
may  still  be  ;  and  speaks  his  \Yoes, — which  woes,  are  they  not 
Majesty's  and  Nature's?  Speaks  at  the  same  time,  his  gay  de- 
fiance, his  firm-set  resolution.  Citizens,  still  more  Citizen- 
esses,  see  the  right  and  the  wrong  ;  not  the  Militaiy  System 
alone  will  die  by  suicide,  but  much  along  with  it.  As  was 
said,  there  is  yet  possible  a  deeper  overturn  than  any  yet  wit- 
nessed :  that  deej)est  uptuxw  of  the  black-burning  sulphm-ous 
stratum  whereon  all  rests  and  grows  ! 

But  how  these  things  may  act  on  the  rude  soldier-mind, 
with  its  military  pedantries,  its  inexperience  of  all  that  lies  off 
the  parade-ground  ;  inexperience  ns  of  a  child,  yet  fierceness 
of  a  man,  and  vehemence  of  a  Frenchman  !  It  is  long  that 
secret  communings  in  mess-room  and  guard-room,  sour  looks, 
thousand-fold  petty  vexations  between  commander  and  com- 
manded, measure  everywhere  the  Aveary  military  da}-.  Ask 
Captain  Dampmartin  ;  an  authentic,  ingenuous  literary  officer 
of  horse  ;  who  loves  the  Reign  of  Liberty,  after  a  sort ;  yet 
has  had  his  heart  grieved  to  the  quick  many  times,  in  the  hot 
South- Western  region  and  elsewhere  ;  and  has  seen  riot,  civil 
battle  by  daylight  and  by  torchHght,  and  anarchy,  hatefuller 
than  death.  How  insubordinate  Troopers,  with  drink  in  their 
heads,  meet  Captain  Dampmartin  and  another  on  the  ram- 
parts, where  there  is  no  escape  or  side-path  ;  and  make  mili- 
taiy  salute  punctually,  for  we  look  calm  on  them  ;  yet  make 
it  in  a  snaj)j)ish,  almost  insulting  manner  :  how  one  morning 
they  '  leave  all  theii-  chamois  shirts '  and  superfluous  buffs, 
which  they  are  tired  of,  laid  in  piles  at  the  Caj^tains'  doors  : 
whereat  'we  laugh,'  as  the  ass  does,  eating  thistles :  nay,  how 
they  'knot  two  forage-cords  together,' wdth  universal  noisy 
cursing,  with  evident  intent  to  hang  the  Quartermaster: — all 
this  the  worthy  Captain,  looking  on  it  thi'ough  the  ruddy-an.l- 
sable  of  fond  regretful  memory,  has  flowiugly  wTitten  down.^' 
Men  growl  in  vague  discontent ;  officers  fling  up  their  com- 
missions, and  emigrate  in  disgust. 

Or  let  us  ask  another  literary  Officer ;  not  yet  Captain  ; 
*  Dampmaitin  :   Evcnemens,  i.  122-14G. 


S50  NA^'CI. 

Sublieutenant  only,  iu  the  Artillery  Regiment  La  Fere  :  n 
j-oung  man  of  twenty-one  ;  not  unentitled  to  speak  ;  the  name 
of  liim  is  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  To  such  height  of  Sublieu- 
tenancy  has  he  now  got  promoted,  from  Brienne  School,  five 
years  ago  ;  '  being  found  qualified  in  mathematics  by  La 
Place.'  He  is  lying  at  Auxonne,  in  the  West,  in  these  months ; 
not  sumptuously  lodged — 'in  the  house  of  a  Barber,  to  whose 
wife  he  did  not  pay  the  customary  degree  of  resj)ect ; '  or  even 
over  at  the  Pavilion,  in  a  chamber  with  bare  walls  ;  the  only 
furniture  an  indifferent  '  bed  without  curtains,  two  chairs,  and 
'  in  the  recess  of  a  window  a  table  covered  with  books  and 
'papers  :  his  Brother  Louis  sleeps  on  a  coarse  mattrass  in  an 
'adjoining  room.'  However,  he  is  doing  something  great: 
writing  his  first  Book  or  Pamphlet, — eloquent  vehement  Let- 
ter to  31.  Matteo  Buttafuoco,  our  Corsican  Dej^uty,  who  is  not 
a  Patriot,  but  an  Aristocrat,  unworthy  of  Deputyship.  Joly 
of  Dole  is  Publisher.  The  literary  Sublieutenant  corrects  the 
proofs ;  '  sets  out  on  foot  from  Auxonne,  every  morning  at 
'  four  o'clock,  for  Dole  :  after  looking  over  the  proofs,  he  par- 
'  takes  of  an  extremely  frugal  breakfast  with  Joly,  and  imme- 
'  diately  prepares  for  returning  to  his  Garrison  ;  where  he 
'  arrives  before  noon,  having  thus  walked  above  twenty  miles 
'in  the  course  of  the  morning.' 

This  Sublieutenant  can  remark  that,  in  drawing-rooms,  on 
streets,  on  highways,  at  inns,  everywhere  men's  minds  are 
ready  to  kindle  into  a  flame.  That  a  Patriot,  if  he  appear  in 
the  drawing-room,  or  amid  a  group  of  officers,  is  liable  enough 
to  be  discouraged,  so  great  is  the  majority  against  him  :  but 
no  sooner  does  he  get  into  the  street,  or  among  the  soldiers, 
than  he  feels  again  as  if  the  whole  Nation  were  with  him. 
That  after  the  famous  Oath,  To  the  King,  to  the  Nation,  and 
Law,  there  was  a  great  change  ;  that  before  this,  if  ordered 
to  fire  on  the  people,  he  for  one  would  have  done  it  in  the 
liing's  name  ;  but  that  after  this,  iu  the  Nation's  name,  he 
would  not  have  done  it.  Likewise  that  the  Patriot  officers, 
more  numerous  too  in  the  Artillery  and  Engineers  than  else- 
where, were  few  in  number  ;  yet,  that  having  the  soldiers  on 
their  side,  they  ruled  the  regiment ;  and  did  often  deliver  tlio 


BOUILLE  AT  METZ.  351 

Aristocrat  brother  officer  out  of  peril  and  strait.  One  day, 
for  example,  '  a  member  of  our  own  mess  roused  the  mob,  by 
'siu<''iu<^".  from  the  -windows  of  our  dining-room,  0  lU chard, 
'  0  vnj  King ;  and  I  had  to  snatch  him  from  their  fury.'* 

All  which  let  the  reader  multiply  by  ten  thousand  ;  and 
spread  it,  with  slight  variations,  over  all  the  camps  and  gar- 
risons of  France.  The  French  Army  seems  on  the  verge  of 
universal  mutiny. 

Universal  mutiny  !  There  is  in  that  what  may  well  make 
Patriot  ConstitutionaHsm  and  an  august  Assembly  shudder. 
Something  behoves  to  be  done  ;  yet  what  to  do  no  man  can 
tell.  jNlii-abeau  proposes  even  that  the  Soldiery,  having  come 
to  such  a  pass,  be  forthwith  disbanded,  the  whole  Two 
Hundred  and  Eighty  Thousand  of  them  ;  and  organise  anew.f 
Impossible  this,  in  so  sudden  a  manner  !  cry  all  men.  And 
yet  literally,  answer  we,  it  is  inevitable,  in  one  manner  or  an- 
other. Such  an  army,  with  its  four-generation  Nobles,  its 
peculated  Pay,  and  men  knotting  forage-cords  to  hang  their 
quartermaster,  cannot  subsist  beside  such  a  Eevolution. 
Your  alternative  is  a  slow-pining  chronic  dissolution  and  new 
organisation  ;  or  a  swift  decisive  one  ;  the  agonies  spread 
over  years,  or  concentrated  into  an  hour.  With  a  Mii-abeau 
for  Minister  or  Governor,  the  latter  had  been  the  choice  ;  with 
no  IMirabeau  for  Governor  it  will  naturally  be  the  former. 


CHAPTER  m. 

BOUILLE     AT     METZ. 


To  Bouille,  in  his  North-Eastern  circle,  none  of  these 
things  are  altogether  hid.  Many  times  flight  over  the  marches 
gleams  out  on  him  as  a  last  guidance  in  such  bewilderment  : 
nevertheless  he  continues  here  ;  struggling  always  to  hope  the 
best,   not  from  new  organisation,  but  from  happy  Counter- 

*  Norvins  (Histoire  de  Napoleon,  i   47).     Las  Cases,  Memoires  (trans- 
lated into  Hazlitt's  Life  of  Napoleon,  i.  23-31). 
t  Moaiteur,  1790,  No.  233. 


Revolution  and  return  to  the  old.  For  the  rest,  it  is  clear  to 
Lira  that  this  same  National  Federation  and  the  universal 
swearing  and  fi-aternising  of  People  and  Soldiei-s,  has  done 
'  incalculable  mischief.'  So  much  that  fermented  secretly  has 
hereby  got  vent,  and  become  open :  National  Guards  and 
Soldiers  of  the  line,  solemnly  embracing  one  another  on  all 
pai'ade-fields,  drinking,  swearing  patriotic  oaths,  fall  into  dis- 
orderly street-processions,  constitutional  unmilitary  exclama- 
tions and  hurrahiugs.  On  which  account  the  Regiment  Pi- 
cardie,  for  one,  has  to  be  drawn  out  in  the  square  of  the 
barracks,  here  at  Metz,  and  sharply  harangued  by  the  Genei'al 
himself  ;  but  expresses  penitence.* 

Far  and  near,  as  accounts  testify,  insubordination  has  be- 
gun grumbling  louder  and  louder.  Officers  have  been  seen 
shut  up  in  their  mess-rooms  ;  assaulted  with  clamorous  de- 
mands, not  without  menaces.  The  insubordinate  ringleader 
is  dismissed  with  'yellow  furlough,'  yellow  infamous  thing 
they  call  cartouche  jaune :  but  ten  new  ringleaders  rise  i:i 
his  stead,  and  the  yellow  cartouche  ceases  to  be  thought 
disgraceful.  '  Within  a  fortnight,'  or  at  furthest  a  month, 
of  that  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  Avhole  French  Ai'my,  de- 
manding Arrears,  forming  Reading  Clubs,  frequenting  Popu- 
lar Societies,  is  in  a  state  which  Bouille  can  call  by  no  name 
but  that  of  mutiny.  Bouillo  knows  it  as  few  do  ;  and  speaks 
by  dire  experience.      Take  one  instance  instead  of  many. 

It  is  still  an  early  day  of  August,  the  precise  date  now  un- 
discoverable,  when  Bouille,  about  to  set  out  for  the  waters  of 
Aix  la  Chapelle,  is  once  more  suddenly  summoned  to  the  bar- 
racks of  Metz.  The  soldiers  stand  ranked  in  fighting  order, 
muskets  loaded,  the  officers  all  there  on  compulsion  ;  and  re- 
quired with  many-voiced  emphasis,  to  have  their  arrears 
paid.  Picardie  was  penitent ;  but  we  see  it  has  relapsed  :  the 
wide  space  bristles  and  lours  with  mere  mutinous  armed 
men.  Brave  Bouille  advances  to  the  nearest  Regiment,  opens 
his  commanding  lips  to  harangiie  ;  obtains  nothing  but  quer- 
ulous-indignant discordance,  and  the  sound  of  so  many  thou- 
sand livres  legally  due.  The  moment  is  tiying  ;  there  are 
♦  Bouilli  :  Momoir.s,  i.  113. 


BOUILLE  AT  METZ.  3i>3 

some  ten  thousand  soldiers  now  in  Metz,  and  one  spirit  seexas 
to  have  spread  amoug  them. 

Bouille  is  firm  as  the  adamant ;  but  what  shall  he  do  ?  A 
German  Regiment,  named  of  Salm,  is  thought  to  be  of  better 
temper  :  nevertheless  Salm  too  may  have  heard  of  the  pre- 
cept, Thou  shall  not  steal  ;  Salm  too  may  know  that  money  is 
money.  Bouille  walks  trustfully  towards  the  Eegiment  de 
Salm,  speakfi  trustful  words  ;  but  here  again  is  answered  by 
the  cry  of  f(>-rty-four  thousand  livi'es  odd  sous.  A  cry  waxing 
more  and  n>ore  vociferous,  as  Salm's  humour  mounts  ;  which 
cry,  as  it  will  produce  no  cash  or  promise  of  cash,  ends  in  the 
wide  simultaneous  whiiT  of  shouldered  muskets,  and  a  de- 
termined quick-time  march  on  the  part  of  Salm — towards  its 
Colonel's  house,  in  the  next  street,  there  to  seize  the  colours 
and  military  chest.  Thus  does  Salm,  for  its  part ;  strong  in 
the  faith  that  meum  is  not  tuum,  that  fair  si^eeches  are  not 
fortj^-four  thousand  livres  odd  sous. 

Unrestrainal)le  !  Salm  tramps  to  military  time,  quick  con- 
suming the  way.  Bouille  and  the  officers,  drawing  sword, 
have  to  dash  into  double  quick  pas-de-charge,  or  unmilitary 
running ;  to  get  the  start ;  to  station  themselves  on  the  outer 
staircase,  and  stand  there  with  what  of  death-defiance  and 
sharp  steel  they  have  ;  Salm  truculently  coiling  itself  up,  rank 
after  rank,  opposite  them,  in  such  humour  as  we  can  fancy, 
which  happily  has  not  yet  mounted  to  the  mui'der-pitch. 
There  will  Bouille  stand,  certain  at  least  of  one  man's  purpose ; 
in  grim  calmness,  awaiting  the  issue.  What  the  intrepidest 
of  men  and  generals  can  do  is  done.  Bouille,  though  there  h 
a  barricading  picket  at  each  end  of  the  street,  and  death 
under  his  eyes,  contrives  to  send  for  a  Dragoon  Regiment 
with  orders  to  charge  :  the  dragoon  officers  mount;  the  dra- 
goon men  -will  not :  hope  is  none  there  for  him.  The  street, 
as  we  say,  barricaded  ;  the  Earth  all  shut  out,  only  the  indif- 
ferent heavenly  Vault  overhead  :  perhaps  here  or  there  a  tim- 
orous householder  peering  out  of  windov>^,  with  prayer  for 
Bouille  ;  copious  Rascality  on  the  pavement,  with  pra3'er  for 
Salm  :  there  do  the  two  parties  stand  ; — like  chariots  locked 
in  a  narrow  thoroughfare  ;  like  locked  wrestlers  at  a  dead- 
Vol.  I.— 23 


854:  NANCI. 

grip  !  For  two  lioui-s  tbey  stand  :  Bouillt's  sword  glittering 
in  his  baud,  adamantine  resolution  clouding  his  brows  :  for 
two  hours  by  the  clocks  of  Metz.  Moody-silent  stands  Salm, 
with  occasioual  clangour  ;  but  does  not  tire.  Rascality,  from 
time  to  time,  urges  some  grenadier  to  level  his  musket  at  the 
General ;  who  looks  on  it  as  a  bronze  General  would,  and 
always  some  corporal  or  other  strikes  it  up. 

In  such  remarkable  attitude,  standing  on  that  staircase  for 
two  hours,  does  brave  Bouille,  long  a  shadow,  dawn  on  us 
visibly  out  of  the  dimness,  and  become  a  person.  For  the 
rest,  since  Salm  has  not  shot  him  at  the  first  instance,  and 
since  in  himself  there  is  no  variableness,  the  danger  will  di- 
minish. The  Mayor,  '  a  man  infinitely  resj)ectable,'  with  his 
Municipals  and  tricolor  sashes,  finally  gains  entrance;  re- 
monstrates, perorates,  promises  ;  gets  Salm  persuaded  home 
to  its  barracks.  Next  day  our  respectable  Mayor  lending  the 
money,  the  officers  pay  down  the  lialf  of  the  demand  in  ready 
cash.  With  which  liquidation  Salm  pacifies  itself,  and  for  the 
j)resent  all  is  hushed  up,  as  much  as  may  be.* 

Such  scenes  as  this  of  Metz,  or  preparations  and  demonstra 
tions  toward  such,  are  universal  over  France  :  Dampmartin 
•with  his  knotted  forage-cords  and  piled  chamois  jackets,  is  at 
Strasburg  in  the  South-East ;  in  these  same  days  or  rather 
nights,  Royal  Champagne  is  *  shouting  Vive  la  Nalion,  au  diable 
Hes  Aristocratcs,  with  some  thirty  lit  candles,'  at  Hesdin,  on  the 
far  North-West.  "  The  garrison  of  Bitche,"  Deputy  Rewbell 
is  sorry  to  state,  "went  out  of  the  town,  with  drums  beating ; 
"  deposed  its  ofiicers  ;  and  then  returned  into  the  town,  sabre 
"in  hand."f  Ought  not  a  National  Assembly  to  occupy  itself 
with  these  objects?  Military  France  is  everywhere  fuU  of 
sour  inflammatory  humour,  Avhich  exhales  itself  fuliginously, 
this  way  or  that  :  a  whole  continent  of  smoldng  flax  ;  which, 
blown  on  here  or  there  by  any  angry  wind,  might  so  easily 
start  into  a  blaze,  into  a  continent  of  fire. 

Constitutional  Patriotism  is  in  deep  natural  alarm  at  these 
things.  The  august  Assembly  sits  diligently  deliberating; 
*  Bouili:-,  i.  40-45.  f  Moiiitour  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  29). 


ARREARS  AT  NANCI.  355 

dare  nowise  resolve,  with  Mirabeau,  on  an  instantaneous  dis- 
bandment  and  extinction  ;  finds  that  a  course  of  palliatives 
is  easier.  But  at  least  and  lowest,  this  grievance  of  the  Arrears 
shall  be  rectified.  A  plan  much  noised  of  in  those  days,  under 
the  name  'Decree  of  the  Sixth  of  August,'  has  been  devised 
for  that.  Lispectors  shall  visit  all  armies  ;  and,  with  certain 
elected  corporals  and  'soldiers  able  to  write,'  verify  what  ar- 
rears and  peculations  do  lie  due,  and  make  them  good.  Well, 
if  in  this  way  the  smoky  heat  be  cooled  down  ;  if  it  be  not,  as 
we  say,  ventilated  overmuch,  or,  by  sparks  and  collision  some- 
where, sent  up  I 


CHAPTER  IV. 

REARS     AT     NANCI. 


We  are  to  remark,  however,  that  of  all  districts  this  of  Bou- 
ille's  seems  the  inflammablest.  It  was  always  to  Bouille  and 
Metz  that  Eoyalty  would  fly  :  Austria  lies  near ;  here  more 
than  elsewhere  must  the  disunited  People  look  over  the  bor- 
ders, into  a  dim  sea  of  Foreign  Politics  and  Diplomacies,  with 
hope  or  apprehension,  with  mutual  exasperation. 

It  was  but  in  these  days  that  certain  Austrian  troops,  march- 
ing peaceably  across  an  angle  of  this  region,  seemed  an  Inva- 
sion realised  ;  and  there  rushed  towards  Stenai,  with  musket 
on  shoulder,  from  all  the  winds,  some  thirty  thousand  Na- 
tional Guards,  to  inquire  what  the  matter  was.*  A  matter  of 
mere  diplomacy  it  proved  ;  the  Austrian  Kaiser,  in  haste  to 
get  to  Belgium,  had  bargained  for  this  short  cut.  The  infinite 
dim  movement  of  European  Politics  waved  a  skirt  over  these 
spaces,  passing  on  its  way  ;  like  the  passing  shadow  of  a  con- 
dor ;  and  such  a  winged  flight  of  thirty  thousand,  with  mixed 
cackling  and  crowing,  rose  in  consequence  !  For,  in  addition 
to  all,  this  people,  as  we  said,  is  much  divided  :  Aristocrats 
abound  ;  Patriotism  has  both  Aristocrats  and  Austrian  s  to 
watch.     It  is  Lorraine,  this  region  ;  not  so  illuminated  as  old 

*  Moniteur,  Seance  du  9  Aout,  1790. 


SoG  NAiVCI. 

France  :  it  remembers  ancient  Feudalisms  ;  nay,  within  man'il 
memory,  it  had  a  Court  and  King  of  its  own,  or  indeed  the 
splendour  of  a  Court  and  Iving,  without  the  burden.  Then, 
contrariwise,  the  Mother  Society,  which  sits  in  the  Jacobins 
Church  at  Paris,  has  Daughters  in  the  Towns  here  ;  shrill- 
tongued,  driven  acrid  :  consider  how  the  memory  of  good 
King  Stanislaus,  and  ages  of  Imperial  Feudalism,  may  comport 
Mith  this  New  acrid  Evangel,  and  Avhat  a  virulence  of  discord 
there  may  be  !  In  all  which,  the  Soldiery,  officers  on  one  side, 
private  men  on  the  other,  takes  part  and  now  indeed  principal 
part ;  a  Soldiery,  moreover,  all  the  hotter  here  as  it  lies  the 
denser,  the  frontier  Province  requiring  more  of  it. 

So  stands  Lorraine  :  but  the  capital  City,  more  especially 
so.  The  pleasant  City  of  Nanci,  which  faded  Feudalism  loves, 
■where  King  Stanislaus  personally  dwelt  and  shone,  has  an 
Aristocrat  Municipality,  and  then  also  a  Daughter  Society : 
it  has  some  forty  thousand  divided  souls  of  population  ;  and 
three  large  Regiments,  one  of  which  is  Swiss  Chateau- Vieux, 
dear  to  Patriotism  ever  since  it  refused  fighting,  or  was  thought 
to  refuse,  in  the  Bastille  days.  Here  unhai^pily  all  evil  influences 
seem  to  meet  concentered  ;  here,  of  all  places,  may  jealousy 
and  heat  evolve  itself.  These  many  months,  accordingly,  man 
has  been  set  against  man.  Washed  against  Unwashed  ;  Patriot 
Soldier  against  Ai-istocrat  Captain,  ever  the  more  bitterly  :  and 
a  long  score  of  grudges  has  been  running  up, 

Nameable  grudges,  and  hkewise  unnameable  :  for  there  is  a 
punctual  nature  in  Wrath  ;  and  daily,  were  there  but  glances 
of  the'  eye,  tones  of  the  voice,  and  minutest  commissions  or 
omissions,  it  will  jot  down  somewhat,  to  account,  under  the 
head  of  sundries,  which  ahvays  swells  the  sum-total.  For  ex- 
ample, in  April  last,  in  those  times  of  preliminary  Federation, 
when  National  Guards  and  Soldiers  were  everywhere  swearing 
brotherhood,  and  all  France  was  locally  federating,  j^reparing 
for  the  grand  National  Feast  of  Pikes,  it  was  observed  that 
these  Nanci  Officers  threw  cold  water  on  the  whole  brotherly 
business  ;  that  they  first  hung  back  from  appearing  at  the 
Nanci  Federation  ;  then  did  appear,  but  in  mere  recUngote  and 
undress,  with  scarcely  a  clean  shirt  on  ;  nay,  that  one  of  them, 


ARREARS  AT  JS-ANCI.  357 

as  the  National  Colours  flaunted  by  in  that  solemn  moment, 
did,  without  visible  necessity,  take  occasion  to  sp?^.* 

Small  'sundries  as  per  journal,'  but  then  incessant  ones. 
The  Ai'istocrat  Municipality,  pretending  to  be  Constitutional, 
keeps  mostly  quiet  ;  not  so  the  Daughter  Societ}^  the  five 
thousand  adult  male  Patriots  of  the  place,  still  less  the  five 
thousand  female  :  not  so  the  young,  whiskered  or  whiskerless, 
four-generation  Noblesse  in  e^Daulettes ;  the  grim  Patriot 
Swiss  of  Chateau-Vieux,  effervescent  infantry  of  Regiment  du 
Roi,  hot  troopers  of  Mestre-de-Camp  !  Walled  Nanci,  which 
stands  so  bright  and  trim,  with  its  straight  streets,  spacious 
squares,  and  Stanislaus'  Architecture,  on  the  fruitful  alluvium 
of  the  Meui'the  ;  so  bright,  amid  the  yellow  cornfields  in  these 
Reaper-Months, — is  inwardly  but  a  den  of  discord,  anxiety, 
inflammability,  not  far  from  exploding.  Let  Bouille  look  to 
it.  If  that  universal  military  heat,  which  we  liken  to  a  vast 
continent  of  smoking  flax,  do  anywhere  take  fire,  his  beard, 
here  in  Lorraine  and  Nanci,  may  the  most  readily  of  all  get 
singed  by  it. 

Bouille,  for  his  part,  is  busy  enough,  but  only  with  the  gen- 
eral superintendence  ;  getting  his  pacified  Salm,  and  all  other 
still  tolerable  Regiments,  marched  out  of  Metz,  to  southward 
towns  and  villages  ;  to  rural  Cantonments  as  at  Vic,  Marsal 
and  thereabout,  by  the  stiU  waters  ;  where  is  plenty  of  horse- 
forage,  sequestered  parade-ground,  and  the  soldier's  specula- 
tive faculty  can  be  stilled  by  drilling.  Salm,  as  we  said,  re- 
ceived only  half  payment  of  arrears  ;  naturally  not  without 
grumbling.  Nevertheless  that  scene  of  the  drawn  sword  may, 
after  all,  have  raised  Bouille  in  the  mind  of  Salm  ;  for  men 
and  soldiers  love  intrepidity  and  swift  inflexible  decision, 
even  when  they  suffer  by  it.  As  indeed  is  not  this  fundamen- 
tally the  quality  of  qualities  for  a  man  ?  A  quality  which  by 
itself  is  next  to  nothing,  since  inferior  animals,  asses,  dogs, 
even  mules  have  it  ;  yet,  in  due  combination,  it  is  the  indis- 
pensable basis  of  all. 

Of  Nanci  and  its  heats,  Bouille,  commander  of  the  whole, 
*  Deux  Ami?,  v.  217. 


358  NANCL 

knows  nothing  special :  understands  generaU}'  that  the  troopa 
in  that  City  are  perhaj)s  the  loorsL*  The  Officers  there  have 
it  all,  as  they  have  long  had  it,  to  themselves  ;  and  unhappily 
seem  to  manage  it  ill.  '  Fifty  yellow  furloughs,'  given  out  in 
one  batch,  do  siu-ely  betoken  difficulties.  But  what  was 
Patiiotism  to  think  of  certain  light-fencing  Fusileers  '  set  on/ 
or  supposed  to  be  set  on,  '  to  insult  the  Grenadier-club,' — 
considerate  speculative  Grenadiers  and  that  reading-room  of 
theirs?  With  shoutings,  with  hootings,  till  the  speculative 
Grenadier  drew  his  side-arms  too  ;  and  there  ensued  battery 
and  duels !  Nay  more,  are  not  swashbucklers  of  the  same 
stamp  '  sent  out '  visibly,  or  sent  out  presumably,  now  in  the 
dress  of  Soldiers  to  pick-  quarrels  with  the  Citizens  :  now, 
disguised  as  Citizens,  to  pick  quarrels  with  the  Soldiers  ?  For 
a  certain  Iloussiere,  expert  in  fence,  was  taken  in  the  very 
fact  ;  four  Officers  (presumably  of  tender  years)  hounding  him 
on,  who '  thereupon  fled  precii^itately  !  Fence-master  Kous- 
si6re,  haled  to  the  guardhouse,  had  sentence  of  three  months' 
imprisonment :  but  his  comrades  demanded  '  j-ellow  furlough ' 
for  him  of  all  persons  ;  nay,  thereafter  they  produced  him  on 
parade  ;  capped  him  in  paper-helmet  inscribed,  hcariot ; 
marched  him  to  the  gate  of  the  City  ;  and  there  sternly  com- 
manded him  to  vanish  forevermore. 

On  aU  which  suspicions,  accusations  and  noisy  procedure, 
and  on  enough  of  the  like  continually  accumulating,  the  Offi- 
cer could  not  but  look  with  disdainful  indignation  ;  perhaps 
disdainfully  express  the  same  in  words,  and  '  soon  after  fly 
over  to  the  Austrians.' 

So  that  when  it  here  as  elsewhere  comes  to  the  question  of 
Arrears,  the  humour  and  procedure  is  of  the  bitterest :  Regi- 
ment Mestre-de-Camp  getting,  amid  loud  clamour,  some  three 
gold  louis  a-man, — which  have,  as  usual,  to  be  borrowed  from 
the  IMuuicipallty  ;  Swiss  Chateau- Vieux  applying  for  the  like, 
but  getting  instead  instantaneous  courrois,  or  cat-o'-nine-tails, 
with  subsequent  insufferable  hisses  from  the  women  and  chil- 
dren :  Regiment  du  Roi,  sick  of  hope  deferred,  at  length 
seizing  its  military  chest,  and  marching  it  to  quarters,  but 
♦Bouiil',  i.  c   9. 


ARREARS  AT  NANCl.  359 

next  day  marching  it  back  again,  through  streets  all  struck 
silent : — unordered  paradings  and  clamours,  not  without  strong 
liquor  ;  objurgation,  insubordination ;  your  military  ranked 
Arrangement  going  all  (as  the  Typographers  say  of  set  types, 
in  a  similar  case)  rapidly  to  pi !  *  Such  is  Nanci  in  these 
early  days  of  August :  the  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes  not  jei  a 
month  old. 

Constitutional  Patriotism  at  Paris  and  elsewhere,  may  well 
quake  at  the  news.  War-Minister  Latour  du  Pin  runs  breath- 
less to  the  National  Assembly,  with  a  written  message  that 
'  all  is  burning,  tout  hrille,  tout  j^tresse.'  The  National  Assem- 
bly, on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  renders  such  Decret,  and 
'  order  to  submit  and  repent,'  as  he  requires,  if  it  will  avail 
anv  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  Journalism,  through  all  its 
throats,  gives  hoarse  outcry,  condemnatory,  elegiac-applausive. 
The  Fortj^-eight  Sections  lift  up  voices  ;  sonorous  Brewer,  or 
call  him  now  Colonel  Santerre,  is  not  silent,  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint- An  toine.  For,  meanwhile,  the  Nanci  soldiers  have 
sent  a  Deputation  of  Ten,  furnished  with  documents  and 
proofs  ;  who  will  tell  another  story  than  the  '  aU-is-burning ' 
one.  Which  deputed  Ten,  before  ever  they  reach  the  As- 
sembly Hall,  assiduous  Latour  du  Pin  picks  up,  and  on  Avar- 
rant  of  Mayor  Bailly,  claps  in  prison !  Most  unconstitu- 
tionally ;  for  they  had  officers'  furloughs.  Whereupon  Saint- 
Aiitoine,  in  indignant  uncertainty  of  the  future,  closes  its 
shops.  Is  Bouill6  a  traitor  then,  sold  to  Austria  ?  In  that 
case,  these  poor  private  sentinels  have  revolted  mainly  out  of 
Patriotism  ? 

New  Deputation,  Deputation  of  National  Guards-men  now, 
sets  forth  from  Nanci  to  enlighten  the  Assembly.  It  meets 
the  old  deputed  Ten  returning,  quite  unexpectedly  unhanged  ; 
and  proceeds  thereupon  with  better  prospects  ;  but  effects 
nothing.  Deputations,  Government  Messengers,  Orderlies  at 
hand-gaUop,  Alarms,  thousand-voiced  Kumours,  go  vibrating 
continually,  backwards  and  forwards,— scattering  distraction. 
Not  till  the  last  week  of  August  does  M.  de  Malseigne,  se- 
lected as  Inspector,  get  down  to  the  scene  of  mutiny  ;  with. 
*  Deux  Amis,  v.  c   8. 


360  NANCL 

Authority,  with  cash,  and  '  Decree  of  the  Sixth  of  August. 
He  now  shall  see  these  Ai-rears  liquidated,  justice  done,  or  at 
least  tumult  quashed. 


CHAPTER  V. 

INSPECTOR   M.'XSEIG>-E. 


Op  Inspector  Malseigne  we  discern,  by  direct  light,  that  he 
is  '  of  Herculean  stature  ; '  and  infer,  with  probability,  that  he 
is  of  truculent  moustachioed  aspect, — for  lioyalht  Officers 
now  leave  the  upper  lip  unshaven  ;  that  he  is  of  indomitable 
bull-heart ;  and  also,  unfortunately,  of  thick  bull-head. 

On  Tuesday,  the  24th  of  August,  1790,  he  ojDcns  session  as 
Inspecting  Commissioner :  meets  those  '  elected  coi-jDorals, 
and  soldiers  that  can  write.'  He  finds  the  accounts  of  Cha- 
teau-Vieux  to  be  complex  ;  to  require  delay  and  reference  :  he 
takes  to  haranguing,  to  reiDrimanding ;  ends  amid  audible 
grumbling.  Next  niorning,  he  resumes  session,  not  at  the 
Townhall  as  prudent  Municii)als  counselled,  but  once  more  at 
the  barracks.  Unfortunately  Ch:iteau-Yieux,  gi-umbling  all 
night,  Avill  now  hear  of  no  delay  or  reference  ;  fi'om  repri- 
manding on  his  part,  it  goes  to  bullying,— answered  Avith 
continual  cries  of  "  Jugez  lout  de  suite,  Judge  it  at  once;" 
whereupon  IVL  de  Malseigne  will  off  in  a  huff.  But  lo,  Cha- 
teau-Vieux,  swarming  all  about  the  barrack-court,  has  sen- 
tries at  every  gate  ;  M.  de  Malseigne,  demanding  egress, 
cannot  get  it,  not  though  Commandant  Denoue  backs  him  ; 
can  get  only  "Jugcz  tout  de,  suite."     Here  is  a  nodus ! 

Bull-hearted  M.  de  iMalseigne  draws  his  sword ;  and  Avill 
force  egi-ess.  Confused  splutter.  M.  de  Malscigne's  sword 
breaks  :  he  snatches  Commandant  Denoue's :  the  sentry  is 
wounded.  M.  de  Malseigne,  whom  one  is  loath  to  kill,  does 
force  egress, — followed  by  CluUeau-Yieux  all  in  disarray  ;  a 
spectacle  to  Nanci.  M.  de  ^Malseigne  walks  at  a  shai-p  pace, 
yet  never  runs  :  Avheeling,  from  time  to  time,  with  menaces 
and  movements  of  fence  ;  and  so  reaches  Denoue's  house,  un- 
hui-t ;  which  house  Chateau- Yieux,  in  an  agitated  manner  in- 
vests,— hindered  as  yet  from  entering,  by  a  crowd  of  officers 


INSPECTOR  MALSEIGNE.  361 

formed  on  the  staircase.  M.  de  Malseigne  retreats  b}'  back 
ways  to  the  Townhall,  flustered  though  undaunted  ;  amid  an 
escort  of  National  Guards.  From  the  Townhall  he,  on  the 
morrow,  emits  I'resh  orders,  fresh  plans  of  settlement  with 
Chateau- Vieux  ;  to  none  of  which  will  Chateau- Vieux  listen  : 
whereupon  he  finally,  amid  noise  enough,  emits  orders  that 
Chateau-Vieux  shall  march  on  the  morrow  morning,  and 
quarter  at  Sarre  Louis.  Chateau-Vieux  flatly  refuses  march- 
ing ;  M.  de  Malseigne  '  takes  act,''  due  notarial  protest,  of 
such  refusal, — if  happily  that  may  avail  him, 

Thii  is  the  end  of  Tlmrsday  ;  and,  indeed,  of  M.  de  Mal- 
seigne's  Inspectorship,  which  has  lasted  some  fifty  hours.  To 
such  length,  in  fifty  hours,  has  he  unfortunately  brought  it. 
Mestre-de-Camp  and  Regiment  du  Koi  hang,  as  it  were,  flutter- 
ing ;  Chateau-Vieux  is  clean  gone,  in  what  way  we  see.  Over 
night  an  Aide-de-Camp  of  Lafayette's,  stationed  here  for  such 
emergenc}^  sends  swift  emissaries  far  and  wide,  to  summon 
National  Guards.  The  slumber  of  the  country  is  broken  by 
clattering  hoofs,  by  loud  fraternal  knockings  ;  every  where 
the  Constitutional  Patriot  must  clutch  his  fighting-gear,  and 
take  the  road  for  Nanci. 

And  thus  the  Herculean  Inspector  has  sat  all  Thursday, 
among  terror-struck  Municipals,  a  centre  of  confused  noise  : 
all  Thursday,  Friday,  and  till  Saturday  towards  noon.  Cha- 
teau-Vieux, in  spite  of  the  notarial  protest,  will  not  march  a 
step.  As  many  as  four  thousand  National  Guards  are  drop- 
ping or  pouring  in  ;  uncertain  what  is  expected  of  them,  still 
more  uncei'tain  what  will  be  obtained  of  them.  For  aU  is 
uncertainty,  commotion,  and  suspicion  :  there  goes  a  word 
that  Bouill?,  beginning  to  bestir  himself  in  the  rural  Canton- 
ments eastward,  is  but  a  Eoyalist  traitor  ;  that  Chateau-Vieux 
and  Partriotism  are  sold  to  Austria,  of  which  latter  M.  de 
Malseigne  is  probably  some  agent.  Mestre-de-Camp  and  Roi 
flutter  still  more  questionably ;  Chateau-Vieux,  far  from 
marching,  'waves  red  flags  out  of  two  carriages,'  in  a  pas- 
sionate manner,  along  the  streets  ;  and  next  morning  answers 
its  Oificers  :  "Pay  us,  then,  and  we  will  march  with  you  to 
the  world's  end  ! " 


3G2  NANCI. 

Under  which  ch-cumstances,  towards  noon  on  Saturday,  ]\L 
de  Malseigue  thinks  it  were  good  perhaps  to  inspect  the  ram- 
jiarts, — on  horseback.  He  mounts,  accordingly,  with  escort 
of  three  troopers.  At  the  gate  of  the  City,  he  bids  two  of 
them  wait  for  his  return  ;  and  with  the  third,  a  trooper  to  be 
depended  upon,  he — gallops  off  for  Luneville  ;  where  lies  a 
certain  Carbineer  Kegiment  not  yet  in  a  mutinous  state  ! 
The  two  left  troopers  soon  get  uneasy  ;  discover  how  it  is,  and 
give  the  alarm.  Mestre-de-Camp,  to  the  number  of  a  huu- 
dred,  saddles  in  frantic  haste,  as  if  sold  to  Austria  ;  gallops 
out  pellmell  in  chase  of  its  Inspector.  And  so  they  spur,  and 
the  Inspector  spurs  ;  careering,  with  noise  and  jingle,  up  the 
valley  of  the  River  Meurthe,  towards  Luneville  and  the  mid- 
day sun  :  through  an  astonished  country  ;  indeed  almost  to 
their  own  astonishment. 

What  a  hunt ;  Actseon-like  ; — which  Actseon  de  Malseigne 
happily  gaim^.  To  arms,  ye  Carbineers  of  Luneville  :  to  chas- 
tise mutinous  men,  insulting  your  General  Officer,  insulting 
your  own  quarters  : — above  all  things,  fire  soon,  lest  there  be 
parleying  and  ye  refuse  to  fire  !  The  Carbineers  fire  soon, 
exploding  upon  the  first  stragglers  of  Mestre-de-Camp  ;  who 
shriek  at  the  very  flash,  and  fall  back  hastily  on  Nanci,  in  a 
state  not  far  from  distraction.  Panic  and  fury  :  sold  to  Aus- 
tria without  an  {f ;  so  much  per  regiment,  the  very  sums  can 
be  specified  ;  and  traitorous  Malseigne  is  fled !  Help,  O 
Heaven  ;  help,  thou  Earth, — ye  unwashed  Patriots  ;  jq  too 
are  sold  like  us  ! 

Effervescent  Rs'giment  du  Hoi  i:)rimes  its  firelocks,  Mestre- 
de-Camp  saddles  wholly  :  Commandant  Deuoue  is  seized,  is 
flung  in  prison  with  a  '  canvas  shirt  [mrreau  de  toilc)'  ixhoxxi 
him  ;  Chateau-Vieux  bursts  up  the  magazines  ;  distributes 
'  three  thousand  fusils  '  to  a  Patriot  people  :  Austria  shall  have 
a  hot  bargain.  Alas,  the  unhappy  hunting-dogs,  as  we  said, 
have  hunted  away  their  huntsman  ;  and  do  now  run  howling 
and  baying,  on  what  trail  they  know  not  ;  nigh  rabid ! 

And  so  there  is  tumiiltuous  mai'ch  of  men,  through  the 
night ;  with  halt  on  the  heights  of  Flinval,  whence  Luneville 
can  be  seen  all  illuminated.     Then  there  is  parley,  at  four  in 


BOUILLE  AT  I^ANCL  363 

the  morning  ;  and  reparley  ;  finally  there  is  agTeement :  the 
Carbineers  give  in  ;  Malseigne  is  surrendered,  with  apologies 
on  all  sides.  After  weary  confused  hours,  he  is  even  got  un- 
der way  ;  the  Lune\'illers  all  turning  out,  in  the  idle  Sunday, 
to  see  such  departure  :  home-going  of  mutinous  Mestre-de- 
Camj)  with  its  Inspector  captive.  Mestre-de-Camp  accord- 
ingly marches  ;  the  Lunevillers  look.  See !  at  the  corner  of 
the  first  street,  our  Inspector  bounds  off  again,  bnll-hearted 
as  he  is  ;  amid  the  slash  of  sabres,  the  crackle  of  musketry  ; 
and  escapes,  full  galloij,  with  only  a  ball  lodged  in  his  buft- 
jerkin.  The  Herculean  man  !  And  yet  it  is  an  escape  to  no 
pm-pose.  For  the  Carbineers,  to  whom  after  the  hardest 
Sunday's  ride  on  record,  he  has  come  circling  back,  'stand 
deliberating  by  their  nocturnal  w-atch-fires  ; '  deliberating  of 
Austria,  of  traitors,  and  the  rage  of  Mestre-de-Camp.  So 
that,  on  the  whole,  the  next  sight  we  have  is  that  of  M.  de 
Malseigne,  on  the  Monday  afternoon,  faring  bull-hearted 
through  the  streets  of  Nanci  ;  in  open  carriage,  a  soldier 
standing  over  him  with  drawn  sword  ;  amid  the  '  furies  of  the 
women,'  hedges  of  National  Guards,  and  confusion  of  Babel : 
to  the  Prison  beside  Commandant  Denoue  !  That  finally 
is  the  lodging  of  Inspector  Malseigne.* 

Surely  it  is  time  Bouillc  were  drawing  near.  The  Country 
all  round,  alarmed  with  watchfires,  illuminated  towns,  and 
marcliing  and  rout,  has  been  sleepless  these  several  nights. 
Nanci,  with  its  uncertain  National  Guards,  with  its  distributed 
fusils,  mutinous  soldiers,  black  i^anic  and  redhot  ii'e,  is  not  a 
City,  but  a  Bedlam. 


CHAPTEK  VL 

BOUILLE      AT     NAIS 


Haste  with  helj^,  thou  brave  Bouille  :  if  swift  help  come  not, 
all  is  now  verily  '  burning  ;'  and  may  burn, — to  what  lengths 
and  breadths  !  Much,  in  these  hours,  depends  on  BouOle  ;  as 
it  shall  now  fare  with  him,  the  whole  Future  may  be  this  way 

*  Deux  Amis  (v.  206-251).  Newspapers  and  Documents  (in  Hist 
Farl.  vii.  59-162). 


364  NAN  CI. 

or  be  that.  If,  for  example,  lie  were  to  loiter  clubitating,  and 
not  come  ;  if  he  were  to  come,  and  fail :  the  whole  Soldiei-y  of 
France  to  blaze  into  mutiny,  National  Guards  goiug  some  this 
wa}"-,  some  that ;  and  Royalism  to  draw  its  rapier,  and  Sanscu- 
lottism  to  snatch  its  pike  ;  and  the  Spirit  of  Jacobinism,  as 
yet  j-oung,  girt  with  sun-rays,  to  grow  instantaneousl}"  mature, 
girt  with  hell-fire, — as  mortals,  in  one  night  of  deadly  crisis, 
have  had  their  heads  turned  gray ! 

Brave  Bouilly  is  advancing  fast,  with  the  old  inflexibility, 
gathering  himself,  unhappily  'in  small  affluences,'  from  East, 
from  West  and  North  ;  and  now  on  Tuesday  morning,  the 
last  day  of  the  month,  he  stands  all  concentered,  unhappily 
still  in  small  force,  at  the  ^•illage  of  Frouarde,  v^ithin  some 
few  miles.  Son  of  Adam  with  a  more  dubious  task  before 
him  is  not  in  the  world  this  Tuesday  morning.  A  weltering 
inflammable  sea  of  doubt  and  peril,  and  Bouille  sure  of  sim- 
ply one  thing,  his  own  determination.  "N^Tiich  one  thing,  in- 
deed, may  be  worth  many.  He  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the 
matter  :  '  Submission,  or  unsparing  battle  and  destruction  ; 
'twenty -four  hours  to  make  your  choice  :'  this  was  the  tenor 
of  his  Proclamation  ;  thirty  copies  of  which  he  sent  yesterday 
to  Nanci : — all  which,  we  find,  were  intercepted  and  not 
posted.* 

Nevertheless,  at  half-past  eleven,  this  morning,  seemingly 
by  way  of  answer,  there  does  wait  on  him  at  Frouarde,  some 
Deputation  from  the  Mutinous  Regiments,  from  the  Nanci 
Municipals,  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Bouille  receives  this 
Deputation,  '  in  a  large  open  court  adjoining  his  lodging  ; ' 
pacified  Salm,  and  the  rest,  attend  also,  being  invited  to  do 
it,— all  happily  still  in  the  right  humour.  The  Mutineers 
pronounce  themselves  with  a  decisiveness,  which  to  Bouille 
seems  insolence  ;  and  happily  to  Salm  also.  Salra,  forgetful 
of  the  i\Ietz  staircase  and  sabre,  demands  that  the  scoundrels 
'  be  hanged  '  there  and  then.  Bouille  represses  the  hanging  ; 
but  answers  that  mutinous  Soldiers  have  one  course,  and  not 

*  Compare  Bouilli  (Memoires,  i.  153-176)  ;  Deux  Amis  (v.  251-371), 
Hist.  Tarl.  >ihi  snprd. 


BOUILLE  AT  NAN  CI.  3G5 

more  than  one  :  to  Kberate,  with  heartfelt  coutritiou.  Mes- 
sieurs Denoue  and  de  Malseigne  ;  to  get  ready  forthwith  for 
marching  off,  whither  he  shall  order ;  and  '  submit  and  re- 
pent,' as  the  National  Assembly  has  decreed,  as  he  yesterday 
did  in  thirty  printed  Placards  proclaim.  These  are  his  terms, 
unalterable  as  the  decrees  of  Destiny.  Which  terms  as  they, 
the  Mutineer  deputies,  seemingly  do  not  accept,  it  were  good 
for  them  to  vanish  from  this  spot,  and  even  to  do  it  promptly ; 
with  him  too,  in  few  instants,  the  word  will  be,  Forward ! 
The  Mutineer  deputies  vanish,  not  unpromptly;  the  Muni- 
cipal ones,  anxious  beyond  right  for  their  own  individuahties, 
prefer  abiding  with  Bouille. 

Brave  Bouille,  though  he  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the  mat- 
ter, knows  his  position  full  weU  :  how  at  Nanci,  what  with 
rebellious  soldiers,  with  uncertain  National  Guards,  and  so 
many  distributed  fusils,  there  rage  and  roar  some  ten  thou- 
sand fighting  men  ;  Avhile  with  himself  is  scarcely  the  third 
part  of  that  number,  in  National  Guards  also  uncertain,  in 
mere  pacified  Regiments, — for  the  present  full  of  rage,  and 
clamour  to  march  ;  but  whose  rage  and  clamour  may  next 
moment  take  such  a  fatal  new  figure.  On  the  top  of  one  un- 
certain billow,  therewith  to  calm  billows !  Bouille  must 
'  abandon  himself  to  Fortune  ; '  who  is  said  sometimes  to 
favour  the  brave.  At  half-past  twelve,  the  Mutineer  deputies 
ha^dng  vanished,  our  drums  beat  ;  we  march  :  for  Nanci ! 
Let  Nanci  bethink  itseh,  then  ;  for  Bouillj  has  thought  and 
determined. 

And  yet  how  shall  Nanci  think  :  not  a  City,  but  a  Bedlam  ! 
Grim  Chateau-Vieux  is  for  defence  to  the  death  ;  forces  the 
Municipality  to  order,  by  tap  of  drum,  all  citizens  acquainted 
with  artillery  to  turn  out,  and  assist  in  managing  the  cannon. 
On  the  other  hand,  effervescent  E.^giment  du  Roi,  is  drawn 
up  in  its  barracks  ;  quite  disconsolate,  hearing  the  humour 
Salm  is  in  ;  and  ejaculates  dolefuUy  from  its  thousand  throats : 
"  La  loi,  la  loi,  Law,  law" !  "  Mestre-de-Camp  blusters,  with 
l^rofane  swearing,  in  mixed  terror  and  furor  ;  National  Guards 
look  this  way  and  that,  not  knowing  w^hat  to  do.  What  a 
Bedlam-City  :  as  many  plans  as  heads  ;  all  ordering,  none 


300  NANCI. 

obeying  :  quiet  none, — except  the  Dead,  who  sleep  under, 
ground,  having  done  their  fighting. 

And,  behold,  BouiUe  proves  as  good  as  his  vs'ord  :  '  at  half- 
past  two  '  scouts  report  that  he  is  within  half  a  league  of  the 
gates  ;  rattling  along,  with  cannon,  and  array  ;  breathing 
nothing  but  destruction.  A  new  Deputation,  Municipals, 
Mutineers,  Officers,  goes  out  to  meet  him  ;  with  passionate 
entreaty  for  yet  one  other  hour.  Bouille  gi'ants  an  hour-. 
Then,  at  the  end  thereof,  no  Denoue  or  Malseigne  aj^pearing 
as  promised,  he  rolls  his  drums,  and  again  takes  the  road. 
Towards  four  o'clock,  the  terrorstruck  Townsmen  may  see 
him  face  to  face.  His  cannons  rattle  there,  in  theii*  car- 
riages ;  his  vanguard  is  within  thirty  paces  of  the  Gate  Stan- 
islaus. Onward  like  a  Planet,  by  appointed  times,  by  law  of 
Nature  !  What  next  ?  Lo,  flag  of  truce  and  chamade  ;  con- 
juration to  halt :  Malseigne  and  Denoue  are  on  the  street, 
coming  hither  ;  the  soldiers  all  repentant,  ready  to  submit 
and  march  !  Adamantine  Bouille's  look  alters  not ;  yet  the 
word  Halt  is  given  :  gladder  moment  he  never  saw.  Joy  of 
joys !  Malseigne  and  Denoue  do  verily  issue  ;  escorted  by 
National  Guards  ;  from  streets  all  frantic,  with  sale  to  Austria 
and  so  forth  :  they  salute  Bouilk',  unscathed.  Bouille  steps 
aside  to  speak  with  them,  and  with  other  heads  of  the  Town 
there  ;  having  already  ordered  by  what  Gates  and  Eoutes  the 
mutineer  Eegiments  shall  file  out. 

Such  colloquy  with  these  two  General  Officers  and  other 
principal  Townsmen  was  natural  enough  ;  nevertheless  one 
wishes  Bouille  had  postponed  it,  and  not  stejDped  aside.  Such 
tumultuous  inflammable  masses,  tumbling  along,  making  Avay 
for  each  other  ;  this  of  keen  nitrous  oxide,  that  of  sulphurous 
firedamp, — were  it  not  well  to  stand  beticeen  them,  keeping 
them  well  separate,  till  the  space  be  cleared?  Numerous 
stragglers  of  Chateau-Vieux  and  the  rest  have  not  marched 
with  their  main  columns,  which  are  filing  out  by  the  appointed 
Gates,  taking  station  in  the  open  meadows.  National  Guards 
are  in  a  state  of  nearly  distracted  uncertainty  ;  the  populace, 
armed  and  unarmed,  roll  openly  delirious, — betrayed,  sold  to 
the  Austriaus,  sold  to  the  Ai-istocrats.     There  are  loaded  can- 


BOUILLE  AT  NANCL  3G7 

lion  with  lit  matches  among  them,  and  Bouille's  vanguard  is 
halted  within  thirty  paces  of  the  Gate.  Command  dwells  not 
in  that  mad  inflammable  mass  ;  which  smoulders  and  tumbles 
there,  in  blind  smoky  rage  ;  which  will  not  open  the  Gate 
when  summoned  ;  says,  it  will  open  the  cannon's  throat 
sooner  ! — Cannonade  not,  O  Friends,  or  be  it  through  my 
body  !  cries  heroic  young  Desilles,  young  Captain  of  Roi, 
clasping  the  murderous  engine  in  his  arms,  and.  holding  it. 
Chateau-Vieux  Swiss,  by  main  force,  with  oaths  and  menaces, 
wrench  off  the  heroic  youth  ;  who  undaunted,  amid  still 
louder  oaths  ;  seats  himself  on  the  touch-hole.  Amid  still 
louder  oaths  ;  with  ever  louder  clangour, — and,  alas,  with  the 
loud  crackle  of  first  one,  and  then  of  three  other  muskets  ; 
which  explode  into  his  body  ;  which  roll  it  in  the  dust, — and 
do  also,  in  the  loud  madness  of  such  moment,  bring  lit  can- 
non-match to  ready  priming ;  and  so,  with  one  thunderous 
belch  of  grapeshot,  blast  some  fifty  of  Bouill6's  vanguard  into 
air  ! 

Fatal !  That  sputter  of  the  first  musket-shot  has  kindled 
such  a  cannon-shot,  such  a  death-blaze  ;  and  all  is  now  redhot 
madness,  conflagration  as  of  Toj)het.  With  demoniac  rage, 
the  Bouille  vanguard  storms  through  that  Gate  Stanislaus  ; 
with  fiery  sweep,  sweeps  Mutiny  clear  away,  to  death,  or  into 
shelters  and  cellars  ;  from  which  latter,  again.  Mutiny  con- 
tinues firing.  The  ranked  Kegiments  hear  it  in  theu'  meadow  ; 
they  rush  back  again  through  the  nearest  Gates ;  Bouille 
gallops  in,  distracted,  inaudible  ;— and  now  has  begun  in 
Nanci,  as  in  that  doomed  Hall  of  the  Nibelungen,  '  a  murder 
grim  and  great.' 

Miserable  :  such  scene  of  dismal  aimless  madness  as  the 
auger  of  Heaven  but  rarely  permits  among  men  !  From 
ceUar  or  from  garret,  from  open  street  in  front,  from  suc- 
cessive corners  of  cross-streets  on  each  hand,  Chateau-Vieux 
and  Patriotism  keep  up  the  murderous  rolling-fire,  on  mur- 
derous not  Unpatriotic  fires.  Your  blue  National-Captain, 
riddled  with  balls,  one  hardly  knows  on  whose  side  fighting, 
requests  to  be  laid  on  the  colors  to  die  :  the  patriotic  Woman 
(name  not  given,  deed  surviving)  screams  to  Chateau-Vieux 


•j<>3  NANCL 

that  it  must  ))(jI  lire  the  otlier  cannon  ;  and  even  flings  a  pail 
of  water  on  it,  since  screaming  avails  not*  Tliou  slialt  fight ; 
thou  shalt  not  figlit ;  and  with  whom  shall  thou  fight !  Could 
tumult  awaken  the  old  Dead,  Burgundian  Charles  the  Bold 
might  stir  from  under  that  Rotunda  of  his  :  never  since  he, 
raging,  sank  in"  the  ditches,  and  lost  life  and  Diamond,  was 
such  a  noise  heard  here. 

Three  thousand,  as  some  count,  lie  mangled,  gory  :  the 
half  of  Chateau-Vieux  has  been  shot,  without  need  of  Court 
Martial,  Cavalry,  of  Mestre-de-Camp  or  their  foes,  can  do 
little.  Rjjiment  du  Eoi  was  persuaded  to  its  barracks ; 
stands  there  i^alpitating.  Bouille,  armed  with  the  terrors  of 
the  Law,  and  favoured  of  Fortune,  finally  triumjDhs.  In  two 
murderous  hours,  he  has  penetrated  to  the  grand  Squai'es, 
dauntless,  though  with  loss  of  forty  officers  and  five  hundred 
men  :  the  shattered  remnants  of  Chateau-Vieux  are  seeking 
covert.  Eegiment  du  Roi,  not  effervescent  now,  alas  no,  but 
having  effervesced,  will  offer  to  ground  its  arms  ;  will  'march 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. '  Nay  these  poor  effervesced  require 
'  escort '  to  march  with,  and  get  it ;  though  they  are  thousands 
strong,  and  have  thirty  ball-cartrides  a-man  !  The  Sun  is  not 
yet  down,  when  Peace,  which  might  have  come  bloodless,  has 
come  bloody  :  the  mutinous  Regiments  are  on  march,  doleful, 
on  their  three  Routes ;  and  from  Nanci  rises  wail  of  women 
and  men,  the  voice  of  weeping  and  desolation  ;  the  City 
weeping  for  its  slain  who  awaken  not.  The  streets  are  empty 
but  for  victorious  j^atrols. 

Thus  has  Fortune,  favouring  the  brave,  dragged  Bouillo,  as 
himself  says,  out  of  such  a  frightful  peril,  '  by  the  hair  of  the 
head.'  An  intrepid  adamantine  man  this  Bouillo: — had  he 
stood  in  old  Broglie's  place,  in  those  Bastille  days,  it  might 
have  been  all  different !  He  has  extinguished  mutinj',  and 
immeasurable  civil  war.  Not  for  nothing,  as  we  see  ;  yet  at  a 
rate  which  he  and  Constitutional  Patriotism  consider  cheap 
"Nay,  as  for  Bouilh',  he,  urged  by  subsequent  contradiction 
which  arose,  declares  coldl}-,  it  was  rather  against  his  own 
*  Deux  Amis,  v.  268. 


BOUILLE  AT  NANCL  369 

private  mind,  and  more  by  public  militar}^  rule  of  duty,  that 
he  did  extinguish  it,* — immeasurable  civil  war  being  now  the 
only  chance.  Urged,  we  saj',  by  subsequent  contradiction  ! 
Civil  war,  indeed,  is  Chaos ;  and  in  all  vital  Chaos,  there  is 
new  Order  shaping  itself  free  :  but  what  a  faith  this,  that  of 
all  new  Orders  out  of  Chaos  and  Possibility  of  Man  and  his 
Universe,  Louis  Sixteenth  and  Two-Chamber  Monarchy  were 
precisely  the  one  that  would  shape  itself !  It  is  like  under- 
taking to  throw  deuce-ace,  say  only  five  hundred  successive 
times,  and  any  other  throw  to  be  fatal — for  Bouille.  Eather 
thank  Fortune,  and  Heaven, '  always,  thou  intrejjid  Bouille  ; 
and  let  contradiction  go  its  way  !  Civil  war,  conilagratiug 
universally  over  France  at  this  moment,  might  have  led  to 
one  thing  or  to  another  thing  :  meanwhile,  to  quench  con- 
flagration, wheresoever  one  finds  it,  wheresoever  one  can  ; 
this,  in  all  times,  is  the  rule  for  man  and  General  Officer. 

But  at  Paris,  so  agitated  and  divided,  fancy  how  it  went, 
when  the  continually  vibrating  Orderlies  vibrated  thither  at 
hand  gallop,  with  such  questionable  news !  High  is  the 
gratulation  ;  and  also  deep  the  indignation.  An  august 
Assembly,  by  overwhelmning  majorities,  passionately  thanks 
Bouillu ;  a  King's  autograph,  the  voices  of  all  Loyal,  all  Con- 
stitutional men  run  to  the  same  tenor.  A  solemn  National 
funeral-service,  for  the  Law-defenders  slain  at  Nanci,  is  said 
and  sung  in  the  Champ  de-Mars ;  Bailly,  Lafayette  and 
National  Guards,  all  except  the  few  that  protested,  assist. 
With  pomp  and  circumstance,  with  episcopal  Calicoes  in  tri- 
color girdles.  Altar  of  Fatherland  smoking  with  cassolettes,  or 
incenseJiettles  ;  the  vast  Champ-de  Mars  wholly  hung  round 
with  black  mortcloth, — which  mortcloth  and  expenditure 
Marat  thinks  had  better  have  been  laid  out  in  bread,  in  these 
dear  days,  and  given  to  the  hungry  living  Patriot.f  On  the 
other  hand,  living  Patriotism,  and  Saint-Antoine,  which  we 
have  seen  noisily  closing  its  shops  and  such  like,  assembles 
now  '  to  the  number  of  forty  thousand  ; '  and,  with  loud  cries, 
under  the  very  vrindows  of  the  thanking  National  Assembly, 

*  EouilK',  V.  t  Ami  du  Peuple  (iu  Hist.  Pari  vbi  supra). 

Vol.  L— 24 


370  NANCI. 

demands  revenge  for  murdered  Brothers,  judgment  on  Bouille, 
and  instant  dismissal  of  War-]\Iinister  Latour  du  Pin. 

At  sound  and  sight  of  which  things,  if  not  War-^Iinister 
Litour,  yet  '  Adored  Minister '  Necker,  sees  good  on  the  3d  of 
September,  1790,  to  withdraw  softly,  almost  j)rivily, — with  au 
eye  to  the  'recovery  of  his  health.'  Home  to  native  Switzer- 
land ;  not  as  he  last  came  ;  lucky  to  reach  it  alive  !  Fifteen 
months  ago,  we  saw  bim  coming,  with  escort  of  horse,  with 
sound  of  clarion  and  trumpet  :  and  now,  at  Arcis-sm-  Aube, 
Avbile  he  departs,  unescorted  soundless,  the  Populace  and 
Municipals  stop  him  as  a  fugitive,  are  not  unlike  mas.sacring 
him  as  a  traitor  ;  the  National  Assembly  consulted  on  the 
matter,  gives  him  free  egress  as  a  nullity.  Such  an  unstable 
'  drift-mould  of  Accident  '  is  the  substance  of  this  lower  world, 
for  them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay  ;  so,  especially  in  hot 
regions  and  times,  do  the  proudest  palaces  we  build  of  it  take 
wings,  and  become  Sahara  sand-palaces,  spinning  mauy- 
pillared  in  the  whirlwind,  and  buiy  us  under  their  sand  ! — 

In  spite  of  the  forty  thousand,  the  National  Assembly 
persists  in  its  thanks  ;  and  Royalist  Latour  du  Pin  continues 
iMinister.  The  forty  thousand  assemble  next  day,  as  loud  as 
ever  ;  roll  towards  Litour's  Hotel ;  find  cannon  on  the  porch- 
steps  with  flambeau  lit ;  and  have  to  retire  elsewhither,  and 
digest  their  spleen,  or  re-absorb  it  into  the  blood. 

Over  in  Lorraine,  meanwhile,  they  of  the  distributed  fusils, 
ring  leaders  of  Mestre-de-Camp,  of  Roi,  have  got  marked  out 
for  judgment  ; — yet  shall  never  get  judged.  Briefer  is  the 
doom  of  Cbateau-Vieux.  Chateau  Vieux  is,  by  Swiss  law, 
given  up  for  instant  trial  in  Court  Martial  of  its  own  officers. 
"Which  Court-Martial,  with  all  brevity  (in  not  many  houi-s), 
has  hanged  some  Twenty-three,  on  conspicuous  gibbets : 
mai'ched  some  Thi-ee-score  in  chains  to  the  Galleys ;  and  so, 
to  appearance,  finished  the  matter  off.  Hanged  men  do  cease 
forever  from  this  Earth  ;  but  out  of  chains  and  the  Galleys 
there  may  be  resuscitation  in  triumph.  Resuscitation  for  the 
chained  Hero  ;  and  even  for  the  chained  Scoundrel,  or  Semi- 
scoundrel  !  Scottish  John  Knox,  such  World-Hero  as  we 
know,  sat  once  nevertheless  pulling  grim-taciturn  at  the  oar 


BOVILLE  AT  NAN  CI.  371 

of  French  Galley,  '  in  tlie  Water  of  Lore  ;  '  and  even  flung  their 
Virgin-Mary  over,  instead  of  kissing  her, — as  a  'pented  bredd,' 
or  timber  Virgin,  who  could  naturally  swim.*  So,  ye  of 
Chateau-Vieux,  tug  patiently,  not  without  hope  ! 

But  indeed  at  Nanei  generally.  Aristocracy  rides  triumphant, 
rough.  Bouille  is  gone  again,  the  second  day  ;  an  Aristo- 
cratic Municipality,  with  free  course,  is  as  cruel  as  it  had 
before  been  cowardly.  The  Daughter  Society,  as  the  mother 
of  the  whole  mischief,  lies  ignominiously  su^jpressed ;  the 
prisons  can  hold  no  more  ;  bereaved  down-beaten  Patriotism 
murmurs,  not  loud  but  deep.  Here  and  in  the  neighbouring 
Towns,  '  flattened  balls  '  picked  from  the  streets  of  Nanci,  are 
worn  at  buttonholes  :  balls  flattened  in  carrying  death  to 
Patriotism;  men  wear  them  there,  in  perpetual  memento 
of  revenge.  Mutineer  deserters  roam  the  woods  ;  have  to 
demand  charity  at  the  musket's  end.  All  is  dissolution, 
mutual  rancour,  gloom  and  despair  ; — till  National  Assembly 
Commissioners  arrive,  with  a  steady  gentle  flame  of  Constitu- 
tionalism in  their  hearts  ;  who  gently  lift  up  the  down  trodden, 
gently  pull  down  the  too  uplifted  ;  reinstate  the  Daughter 
Society,  recall  the  mutineer  deserter ;  gradually  levelling, 
strive  in  all  wise  ways,  to  smooth  and  soothe.  With  such 
gradual  mild  levelling  on  the  one  side  ;  as  with  solemn  funeral- 
service.  Cassolettes,  Court-Martial,  National  thanks, — all  that 
Ofiioiality  can  do  is  done.  The  buttonhole  will  drop  its  flat 
ball ;  the  black  ashes,  so  far  as  may  be,  get  green  again. 

This  is  the  '  Affair  of  Nanci ; '  by  some  called  the  '  Massacre 
of  Nanci  ; '  properly  speaking,  the  unsightly  ivrong-side  of  that 
thrice  glorious  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  right-side  of  which  formed 
a  spectacle  for  the  very  gods.  Right-side  and  wrong  lie  always 
so  near  :  the  one  was  in  July,  in  August  the  other !  Theatres, 
the  theatres  over  in  London,  are  bright  with  their  pasteboard 
simulacrum  of  that '  Federation  of  the  French  People,'  brought 
"  out  as  Drama  :  this  of  Nanci,  we  may  say,  though  not  played 
in  any  pasteboard  Theatre,  did  for  many  months  enact  itself, 
and  even  walk  spectrally, — in  all  French  heads.  For  the  news 
*  Knox's  History  of  the  Reformation,  b,  i. 


372  NAN  CI. 

of  it  fly  pealing  tbrougli  all  France  :  awakening  in  town  and 
village,  in  clubroom,  messroom,  to  the  utmost  borders,  some 
mimic  reflex  or  imaginative  repetition  of  the  business  ;  always 
with  the  angry  questionable  assertion :  It  was  right ;  It  was 
wrong.  Whereby  come  controversies,  duels  ;  embitterment, 
vain  jargon  ;  the  hastening  forward,  the  augmenting  and  in- 
tensifying of  whatever  new  explosions  he  in  store  for  us. 

Meanwhile,  at  this  cost  or  at  that,  the  mutiny,  as  we  say,  is 
stilled.  The  French  Army  has  neither  bm-st  up  in  universal 
simultaneous  delirium  :  nor  been  at  once  disbanded,  put  an 
end  to  and  made  new  again.  It  must  die  in  the  chronic  man- 
ner through  years,  by  inches  ;  with  partial  revolts,  as  of  Brest 
Sailors  or  the  like,  which  dare  not  spread  ;  with  men  unhappy, 
insubordinate  ;  officers  unhappier,  in  Eoyalist  mustachioes, 
taking  horse,  singly  or  in  bodies,  across  the  Ehine  :  *  sick  dis- 
satisfaction, sick  disgust  on  both  sides  ;  the  Ai-my  moribund, 
fit  for  no  duty  : — till  it  do,  in  that  unexpected  manner,  Phoe- 
nix-hke,  with  long  throes,  get  both  dead  and  newbora  ;  then 
start  forth  strong,  nay  stronger  and  even  strongest. 

Thus  much  was  the  bi-ave  Bouillc  hitherto  fated  to  do. 
Wherewith  let  him  again  fade  into  dimness  ;  and,  at  Metz  ov 
the  rural  Cantonments,  assiduously  drilling,  mysteriously  dip- 
lomatising, in  scheme  Avithin  scheme,  hover  as  formerly  a 
faint  shadow,  the  hope  of  Royalty. 

*  See  Dampmartiu  (i.  249). 


BOOK  X. 


TEE  TUILERIES. 
CHAPTER  I. 

EPIMENIDES. 

How  true  that  there  is  nothing  dead  in  this  Universe  ;  that 
what  W8  call  dead  is  only  changed,  its  forces  working  in  in- 
verse order  !  '  The  leaf  that  lies  rotting  in  moist  winds,'  says 
one,  '  has  still  force  ;  else  how  could  it  rot  ? '  Our  whole 
Universe  is  but  an  infinite  Complex  of  Forces  ;  thousandfold, 
from  Gra-vitation  up  to  Thought  and  Will ;  man's  Freedom 
environed  with  Necessity  of  Nature  :  in  all  which  nothing  at 
any  moment  slumbers,  but  all  is  forever  awake  and  busy. 
The  thing  that  lies  isolated  inactive  thou  shalt  nowhere  dis- 
cover ;  seek  every  wdiere,  from  the  granite  mountain,  slow 
mouldering  since  Creation,  to  the  passing  cloud-vapoui',  to 
the  living  man  ;  to  the  action,  to  the  spoken  word  of  man. 
The  word  that  is  spoken,  as  we  know,  flies  ii-revocable  :  not 
less,  but  more,  the  action  that  is  done.  '  The  gods  themselves,' 
sings  Pindar,  'cannot  annihilate  the  action  that  is  done.'  No: 
this,  once  done,  is  done  always  ;  cast  forth  into  endless  Time ; 
and  long  conspicuous  or  soon  hidden,  must  verily  work  and 
grow  forever  there,  an  iudestnictible  new  element  in  the  In- 
finite of  Things.  Or,  indeed,  what  is  this  Infinite  of  Things 
itself,  which  men  name  Universe,  but  an  Action,  a  sum-total 
of  Actions  and  Activities  ?  The  living  ready-made  sum-total  of 
these  three, — which  Calculation  cannot  add,  cannot  bring  on 
its  tablets  ;  yet  the  sum,  we  say,  is  written  visible  :  All  that 
has  been  done.  All  that  is  doing,  All  that  will  be  done ! 
Understand  it  well,  the  Thing  thou  beholdest,  that  Thing  is 


374  THE  TUILERIES. 

an  Action,  the  product  and  expression  of  exerted  Force  :  tho 
All  of  Things  is  an  infinite  conjugation  of  the  verb  To  do. 
Shoreless  Fountain- Ocean  of  Force,  of  power  to  do ;  wherein 
Force  rolls  and  circles,  billowing,  many  streamed,  harmoni- 
ous ;  wide  as  Immensity,  deep  as  Eternity  ;  beautiful  and  ter- 
rible, not  to  be  comprehended :  this  is  what  man  names  Ex- 
istence and  Universe  ;  this  thousand-tinted  Flame-image,  at 
once  veil  and  revelation,  reflex  such  as  he,  in  his  poor  brain  and 
heart,  can  paint  of  One  Unnameable  dwelling  in  inaccessible 
light!  From  beyond  the  Star-galaxies,  from  before  the  Begin- 
ning of  Days,  it  billows  and  rolls, — round  thee,  nay  thyself  art 
of  it,  in  this  point  of  space  where  thou  now  standest,  in  this 
moment  which  thy  clock  measures. 

Or  apart  from  all  Transcendentalism,  is  it  not  a  plain  truth 
of  sense,  which  the  duller  mind  can  even  consider  as  a  truism, 
that  human  things  whoUy  are  in  continual  movement,  and 
action  and  reaction  ;  working  continually  forward,  phasis  after 
phasis,  by  unalterable  laws,  towards  prescribed  issues  ?  How 
often  must  we  say,  and  yet  not  rightly  lay  to  heart :  The  seed 
that  is  sown,  it  will  spring  !  Given  the  summer's  blossoming, 
then  there  is  also  given  the  autumnal  withering  :  so  is  it 
ordered  not  with  seedfields  only,  but  with  transactions,  arrange- 
ments, philosophies,  societies,  French  Revolutions,  whatsoever 
man  works  with  in  this  lower  world.  The  Beginning  holds  it 
in  the  End,  and  aU  that  leads  thereto  ;  as  the  acorn  does  the 
oak  and  its  fortunes.  Solemn  enough,  did  we  think  of  it, — 
which  unhappily  and  also  happily  w-e  do  not  very  much  ! 
Thou  there  canst  begin;  the  Beginning  is  for  thee,  and  there; 
but  where,  and  of  what  sort,  and  for  Avhom  will  the  End  be  ? 
AU  grows,  and  seeks  and  endures  its  destinies  :  consider  like- 
wise how  much  grows,  as  the  trees  do,  whether  we  think  of  it 
or  not.  So  that  when  your  Epimeuides,  your  somnolent  Peter 
Klaus,  since  named  Rip  Van  Winkle,  awakens  again,  he  finds 
it  a  changed  world.  In  that  seven-years'  sleep  of  his,  so  much 
has  changed  !  All  that  is  without  us  will  change  while  we 
think  not  of  it ;  much  even  that  is  witliin  us.  The  truth  that 
was  yesterday  a  restless  Problem,  has  to-day  grown  a  Belief, 
burning  to  be  uttered  :  on  the  moiTow,  contradiction  has  ex- 


EPIMENIDES.  dlo 

aspei-ated  it  into  mad  Fanaticism  ;  obsti-uction  has  dulled  it 
into  sick  Inertness  ;  it  is  sinking  towards  silence,  of  satisfac- 
tion or  of  resignation.  To-day  is  not  Yesterday,  for  man  or 
for  thing.  Yesterday  there  was  the  oath  of  Love ;  to- day  has 
come  the  curse  of  Hate.  Not  willingly  :  ah,  no  ;  but  it  could 
not  help  coming.  The  golden  radiance  of  youth,  would  it 
wilhngly  have  tarnished  itself  into  the  dimness  of  old  age  ? — 
Fearful,  how  we  stand  enveloped,  deep  sunk,  in  that  Mystery 
of  Time  ;  and  are  Sons  of  Time  :  fashioned  and  woven  out  of 
Time  ;  and  on  us,  and  on  all  that  we  have,  or  see,  or  do,  is 
written  :  Eest  not.  Continue  not,  Forward  to  thy  doom  ! 

But  in  seasons  of  Kevolution,  which  indeed  distinguish 
themselves  from  common  seasons  by  their  velociti/  mainly, 
your  miraculous  Seven-sleeper  might,  with  miracle  enough, 
awake  sooner :  not  by  the  century,  or  seven  years,  need  he 
sleep  ;  often  not  by  the  seven  months.  Fancy,  for  example, 
some  new  Peter  Klaus,  sated  with  the  jubilee  of  that  Federa- 
tion day,  had  lain  down,  say  directly  after  the  Blessing  of 
Talleyrand  ;  and,  reckoning  it  all  safe  noio  had  fallen  com- 
posedly asleep  under  the  timber-work  of  the  Father-land's 
Altar ;  to  sleep  there,  not  twenty-one  years,  but  as  it  were 
year  and  day.  The  cannonading  of  Nanci,  so  far  off,  does  not 
disturb  him  ;  nor  does  the  black  mortcloth,  close  at  hand,  nor 
the  requiems  chaunted,  and  minute-guns,  incense-pans  and 
concourse  right  over  his  head  :  none  of  these  ;  but  Peter 
sleeps  through  them  all.  Through  one  circling  year,  as  we 
say  ;  from  July  the  14th,  of  1790,  till  July  the  17th,  of  1791  : 
but  on  that  latter  day,  no  Klaus,  nor  most  leaden  Epimenides, 
only  the  Dead  could  continue  sleeping :  and  so  our  miracu- 
lous Peter  Klaus  aAvakens.  With  what  eyes,  O  Peter  !  Earth 
and  sky  have  still  their  joyous  July  look,  and  the  Champ-de- 
Mars  is  multitudinous  with  men  :  but  the  jubilee-huzzahing 
has  become  Bedlam-shrieking,  of  terror  and  revenge  ;  not 
blessing  of  Talleyrand,  or  any  blessing,  but  cursing,  impreca- 
tion and  shrill  wail  ;  our  cannon-salvoes  are  turned  to  sharp 
shot  ;  for  swinging  of  incense-pans  and  Eighty-three  Depart- 
mental Bannei's,  we  have  waving  of  the  one  sanguineous  Dra- 


370  TIllC  TUILFAUES. 

peaallouge. — Thou  foolish  Klaus  !  The  one  lay  in  the  other, 
the  one  was  the  other,  minus  Time  ;  even  as  Hannibal's  rock- 
rending  vinegar  lay  in  the  sweet  new  wine.  That  sweet  Fed- 
eration was  of  last  year ;  this  sour  Divulsiou  is  the  selfsame 
substance,  only  by  the  appointed  days. 

No  miraculous  Klaus  or  Epimenides  sleeps  in  these  times  ; 
and  yet,  may  not  many  a  man,  if  of  due  opacity  and  levity, 
act  the  same  miracle  in  a  natural  way ;  we  mean,  with  his 
eyes  open  ?  Eyes  has  he,  but  he  sees  not,  except  what  is 
under  his  nose.  With  a  sparkling  briskness  of  glance,  as  if 
he  not  only  saw  but  saw  through,  such  a  one  goes  whisking, 
assiduous,  in  his  circle  of  officialities  ;  not  dreaming  but  that 
it  is  the  whole  world  :  as,  indeed,  where  your  vision  termi- 
nates, does  not  inanity  begin  there,  and  the  world's  end  clearly 
disclose  itself — to  you  ?  Whereby  our  brisk-sparkling  assidu- 
ous official  i^erson  (call  him,  for  instance,  Lafayette),  suddenly 
startled,  after  year  and  day,  by  huge  grapeshot  tumult,  stares 
not  less  astonished  at  it  than  Peter  Ivlaus  w^ould  have  done. 
Such  natural  miracle  can  Lafayette  perform  ;  and  indeed  not 
he  only  but  most  other  officials,  non-officials,  and  generally 
the  whole  French  people  can  perform  it ;  and  do  bounce  up, 
ever  and  anon,  hke  amazed  Seven-sleepers  awakening ;  awak- 
ening amazed  at  the  noise  they  themselves  make.  So  strange- 
ly is  Freedom,  as  we  say,  environed  in  Necessity  ;  such  a  sin- 
gular Somnambulism,  of  Conscious  and  Unconscious,  of  Vol- 
untary and  Involuntary,  is  this  life  of  man.  If  anywhere  in 
the  world  there  was  astonishment  that  the  Federation  Oath 
went  into  gi-apeshot,  surely  of  all  persons  the  French,  first 
swearers  and  then  shooters,  felt  astonished  the  most. 

Alas,  offences  must  come.  'The  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes, 
with  its  effulgence  of  brotherly  love,  unknown  since  the  Age 
of  Gold,  has  changed  nothing.  That  piiuient  heat  in  Twenty- 
five  millions  of  hearts  is  not  cooled  thereby  ;  but  is  still  hot, 
nay  hotter.  Lift  oft  the  pressure  of  command  from  so  many 
millions  ;  all  pressure  or  binding  mle,  excej)t  such  melodrsk^ 
matic  Federation  Oath  as  they  have  bound  themselces  with  ! 
For  Thoii  shalt  was  from  of  old  the  condition  of  man's  being, 
and  his  weal  and  blessedness  was  in  obeying  that.     Wo  for 


EPIMEMDES.  oit 

him  when,  were  it  on  hest  of  the  clearest  necessity,  rehelHon, 
disloyal  isolation,  and  mere  /  loill,  becomes  his  rule  !  But 
the  Gospel  of  Jean- Jacques  has  come,  and  the  first  Sacrament 
of  it  has  been  celebrated  :  all  things,  as  we  say,  are  got  into 
hot  and  hotter  prurience  ;  and  must  go  on  pruriently  ferment- 
ing, in  continual  change  noted  or  unnoted. 

'Worn  out  with  disgusts,'  Captain  after  Captain,  in  Royal- 
ist moustachioes,  mounts  his  war-horse,  or  his  Rozinante  war- 
garron,  and  rides  minatory  across  the  Rhine  ;  till  all  have  rid- 
den. Neither  does  civic  Emigration  cease  ;  Seigneur  after 
Seigneur  must,  in  hke  manner,  ride  or  roll ;  impelled  to  it, 
and  even  compelled.  For  the  very  Peasants  despise  him,  in 
that  he  dare  not  join  his  order  and  fight.*  Can  he  bear  to 
have  a  Distaff,  a  Quenouille  sent  to  him  :  say  in  copperplate 
shadow,  by  jDOst ;  or  fixed  up  in  wooden  reality  over  his  gate- 
lintel  :  as  if  he  were  no  Hercules  but  an  Omphale  ?  Such 
scutcheon  they  forward  to  him  diligently  from  beyond  the 
Rhine  ;  till  he  too  bestir  himself  and  march,  and  in  sour  hu- 
mour another  Lord  of  Land  is  gone,  not  taking  the  Land  with 
him.  Nay,  what  of  Captains  and  emigrating  Seigneurs? 
There  is  not  an  angry  word  on  any  of  those  Twenty-five  mill- 
ion French  tongues,  and  indeed  not  an  angry  thought  in  their 
hearts,  but  is  some  fraction  of  the  great  Battle.  Add  many 
successions  of  angry  words  together,  you  have  the  manual 
brawl ;  add  brawls  together,  with  the  festei'ing  sorrows  they 
leave,  and  they  rise  to  riots  and  revolts.  One  reverend  thing 
after  another  ceases  to  meet  reverence :  in  visible  material 
combustion,  chateau  after  chateau  mounts  up  ;  in  spiritual  in- 
visible combustion,  one  authority  after  another.  With  noise 
and  glare,  or  noisily  and  unnoted,  a  whole  Old  Sj'stem  of  things 
is  vanishing  piecemeal :  on  the  morrow  thou  shalt  look  and  it 
is  not. 

*  Dampmartin,  passim. 


^to  THE   TLJLElilES. 

CHAPTER  H 

THE     WAKEFUL. 

Sleep  who  will,  cradled  in  Lope  and  short  vision,  like  Lafay« 
ette,  who  '  always  in  the  danger  done  sees  the  last  danger 
that  will  threaten  him,' — Time  is  not  sleeping,  nor  Time's 
seedfield. 

That  sacred  Herald's  College  of  a  neio  Dynasty  ;  we  mean 
the  Sixty  and  odd  BHlsticliers  with  their  Leaden  badges,  are 
not  sleeping.  Daily  they,  with  pastepot  and  cross-staff,  new- 
clothe  the  walls  of  Paris  in  colours  of  the  rainbow  :  authori- 
tative heraldic,  as  we  say,  or  indeed  almost  magical  thauma- 
turgic  ;  for  no  Placard-Journal  that  they  paste  but  will  con- 
vince some  soul  or  souls  of  men.  The  Hawkers  bawl ;  and 
the  BaUadsiugers :  great  Journalism  blows  and  blusters  through 
aU  its  throats,  forth  from  Paris  towards  all  corners  of  France, 
like  an  ^olus'  Cave  ;  keej^ing  alive  all  manner  of  fires. 

Throats  or  Journals  there  are,  as  men  count,*  to  the  num- 
ber of  some  Hundred  and  thirty-three.  Of  various  calibre  ; 
from  your  Cheniers,  Gorsases,  Camilles,  down  to  your  Marat, 
down  now  to  your  incipient  Hebert  of  the  Pere  Duchesne  ; 
these  blow,  with  fierce  weight  of  argument  or  quick  light  ban- 
ter, for  tho  Rights  of  Man  :  Durosoys,  Royous,  Peltiers,  Sul- 
leaus,  equally  with  mixed  tactics,  inclusive,  singular  to  say,  of 
much  profane  Parody,f  are  blowing  for  Altar  and  Throne. 
As  for  Marat  the  People's-Friend,  his  voice  is  as  that  of  the 
bullfrog,  or  bittern  by  the  solitary  pools ;  he,  unseen  of  men, 
croaks  harsh  thunder,  and  that  alone  continually, — of  indig- 
nation, suspicion,  incurable  sorrow.  The  People  are  sinking 
toward  ruin,  near  starvation  itself:  'My  dear  friends,'  cries 
he,  '  your  indigence  is  not  the  fruit  of  -sdces  nor  of  idleness, 
'  you  have  a  right  to  hfe,  as  good  as  Louis  XVI.,  or  the  hap- 
*  piest  of  the  century.  What  man  can  say  he  has  a  right  to 
'  dine,  when  you  have  no  bread?' J     The  People  sinking  on 

*Mercier,  iii.  163.  •!■&<?  Hist.  Pari.,  vii.  51. 

t  Ami  da  Peuple,  No.  306.  See  other  Excerpts  in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  139- 
14y,  42«-433 ;  ix.  85-93,  &c. 


THE   WAKEFUL.  ^<- 

the  one  hand  :  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  but  wretched  Sieui- 
Motiers,  treasonous  Kiquetti  Mkabeaus ;  traitors,  or  else 
shadows,  and  simulacra  of  Quacks,  to  be  seen  in  high  places, 
look  where  you  will !  Men  that  go  mincing,  grimacing,  with 
plausible  speech  and  brushed  raiment ;  hollow  within  :  Quacks 
Pohtical ;  Quacks  scientific.  Academical  ;  all  with  a  fellow- 
feeling  for  each  other,  and  kind  of  Quack  pubHc-spirit !  Not 
great  \avoisier  himself,  or  any  of  the  Forty  can  escape  this 
rough  tongue  ;  which  wants  not  fanatic  sincerity,  nor,  stran- 
gest'of  all,  a  certain  rough  caustic  sense.  And  then  the  '  three 
thousand  gaming-houses'  that  are  in  Paris  ;  cesspools  for  the 
scoundrelism  of  the  world  ;  sinks  of  iniquity  and  debauchery, 
—whereas  without  good  morals  Liberty  is  impossible  !  There, 
in  these  Dens  of  Satan,  which  one  knows,  and  perseveringly 
denounces,  do  Sieur  Motier's  mouchards  consort  and  col- 
league ;  battening  vampire-like  on  a  People  nest  door  to 
starvation.  '  0  Peuple  !  '  cries  he  ofttimes,  with  heart-rending 
accent.  Treason,  delusion,  vampyrism,  scoundrehsm,  from 
Dan  to  Beersheba !  The  soul  of  Marat  is  sick  with  the  sight : 
but  what  remedy?  To  erect  'Eight  Hundred  gibbets,'  in 
convenient  rows,  and  proceed  to  hoisting  ;  '  Riquetti  on  the 
first  of  them  !'  Such  is  the  brief  recipe  of  Marat,  Friend  of 
the  People. 

So  blow  and  bluster  the  Hundred  and  thirty-three  :  nor,  as 
would  seem,  are  these  sufficient ;  for  there  are  benighted 
nooks  in  France,  to  which  Newspapers  do  not  reach  ;  and 
everywhere  is  '  such  an  appetite  for  news  as  was  never  seen 
in  any  country.'  Let  an  expeditious  Dampmartin,  on  fur- 
lough, set  out  to  return  home  from  Paris,*  he  cannot  get 
along  for  '  peasants  stopping  him  on  the  highway  ;  over- 
'  whelming  him  with  questions  : '  the  Mattre  de  Poste  will  not 
send  out  the  horses  till  you  have  well  nigh  quarrelled  with 
him,  but  asks  always,  What  news  ?  At  Autun,  in  spite  of  the 
dark  night  and  'rigorous  frost,'  for  it  is  now  January,  1791, 
nothing  will  serve  but  you  must  gather  your  wayworn  limbs 
and  thoughts,  and  '  speak  to  the  multitudes  from  a  window 
opening  into  the  market  place.'  It  is  the  shortest  method; 
♦Dampmartiu,  i.  184. 


3S0  THE   TVILEIUES. 

Thi>(,  good  Christian  people,  is  verily  what  nn  august  As» 
sembly  seemed  to  me  to  be  doing  ;  this  and  no  other  is  the 
news : 

Now  my  weary  lips  I  close  ; 

Leave  me,  leave  me  to  repose  ! 

The  good  Dampmartin  ! — But,  on  the  whole,  are  not  Nations 
astonishingly  true  to  their  National  character  ;  which  indeed 
runs  in  the  blood?  Nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  Julius 
Cffisar,  with  his  quick  sure  eye,  took  note  how  the  Gauls  way- 
laid men.  'It  is  a  habit  of  theirs,'  says  he,  'to  stojD  travellers, 
'  were  it  even  by  constraint,  and  inquire  whatsoever  each  of 
'  them  may  have  heard  or  known  about  any  sort  of  matter :  in 
'  their  towns,  the  common  j^eople  beset  the  passing  trader  ;  de- 
'  manding  to  hear  from  what  regions  he  came,  what  things  he 
'  got  acquainted  with  there.  Excited  by  which  rumours  and 
'  hearsays  they  will  decide  about  the  weightiest  matters  ;  and 
'  necessarily  repent  next  moment  that  they  did  it,  on  such 
'  guidance  of  uncertain  reports,  and  many  a  traveller  answei'ing 
'with  mere  fictions  to  jjlease  them,  and  get  off.'  *  Nineteen 
hundred  years  ;  and  good  Dampmartin,  wayworn,  in  Avinter 
frost,  probably  with  scant  light  of  stars  and  fish-oil,  still 
perorates  from  the  Inn-window !  This  Peoi^le  is  no  longer 
called  Gaulish  ;  and  it  has  xoholly  become  braccatu.%  has  got 
breeches,  and  suffered  change  enough  :  certain  fierce  German 
Franken  came  storming  over  ;  and,  so  to  sjDcak,  vaulted  on  .the 
back  of  it ;  and  always  after,  in  their  grim  tenacious  way, 
have  ridden  it  bridled ;  for  German  is,  by  his  verj'  name, 
GueiTe-mim,  or  man  that  icars  and  gars.  And  so  the  People, 
as  we  say,  is  now  called  French  or  Fraukish  :  nevertheless, 
does  not  the  old  Gaulish  and  Gaelic  Celthood,  with  its  vehe- 
mence, effervescent  promptitude,  and  what  good  and  ill  it  had, 
still  vindicate  itself  little  adulterated  ? — 

For  the  rest,  that  in  such  prurient  confusion,  Clubbisra 

thrives  and  spreads,  need  not  be  said.     Already  the  Mother 

of  Patriotism,  sitting  in  the  Jacobins,  shines  supreme  overall ; 

and  has  paled  the  poor  lunar  light  of  that  Monarchic  Club 

♦  De  Bello  Gallico,  lib.  iv.  5. 


THE   WAKEFUL.  381 

near  to  final  extinction.  She,  we  say,  sliines  supreme,  girt 
with  sun-Hght,  not  yet  with  infernal  lightning  ;  reverenced, 
not  without  fear,  by  Municipal  Authorities  ;  Counting  her 
Barnaves,  Lameths,  Petions,  of  a  National  Assembly ;  most 
gladly  of  all,  her  Eobespierre.  Cordeliers,  again,  your  He- 
bert,  Vincent,  BibHopoHst  Momoro,  groan  audibly  that  a 
tyrannous  Mayor  and  Sieur  Motier  harrow  them  with  the  sharp 
trihula  of  Lav.^  intent  apparently  to  suppress  them  by  tribula- 
tion. How  the  Jacobin  Mother  Society,  as  hinted  formerly, 
sheds  forth  Cordeliers  on  this  hand,  and  then  Feuillans  on 
that :  the  Cordeliers  '  an  elixir  or  double  distillation  of  Jac- 
obin Patriotism ; '  the  other  a  wide-spread  weak  dilution 
thereof ;  how  she  will  reabsorb  the  former  into  her  Mother- 
bosom,  and  stormfully  dissipate  the  latter  into  Nonentity  : 
how  she  breeds  and  brings  forth  Three  Hundred  Daughter- 
Societies  ;  her  rearing  of  them,  her  correspondence,  her  en- 
deavourings  and  continual  travail :  how,  under  an  old  figure, 
Jacobinism  shoots  forth  organic  filaments  to  the  utmost  cor- 
ners of  confused  dissolved  France  ;  organising  it  anew  : — this 
properly  is  the  grand  fact  of  the  Time. 

To  passionate  Constitutionalism,  still  more  to  Eoyalism, 
which  see  all  their  own  Clubs  fail  and  die,  Clubbism  will  nat- 
urally grow  to  seem  the  root  of  all  evil.  Nevertheless  Club- 
bism is  not  death,  but  rather  new  organization,  and  life  out  of 
death  :  destructive,  indeed,  of  the  remnants  of  the  Old  ;  but 
to  the  New  important,  indispensable.  That  man  can  co- 
operate and  hold  communion  with  man,  herein  lies  his  mi- 
raculous strength.  In  hut  or  hamlet,  Patriotism  mourns 
not  now  like  voice  in  the  desert  :  it  can  walk  to  the  nearest 
Town  ;  and  there,  in  the  Daughter-Society,  make  its  ejacula- 
tion into  an  articulate  oration,  into  an  action,  guided  forward 
by  the  Mother  of  Patriotism  herself.  All  Clubs  of  Constitu- 
iionaUsts,  and  such  like,  fail,  one  after  another,  as  shallow 
fountains  :  Jacobinism  alone  has  gone  down  to  the  deep  sub- 
terranean lake  of  waters  ;  and  may,  unless  filled  in,  flow  there, 
copious,  continual,  like  an  Artesian  well.  Till  the  Great  Deep 
have  drained  itself  up  ;  and  all  be  flooded  and  submerged,  and 
Noah's  Deluge  out-deluged ! 


382  THE  TUILERIES. 

On  the  other  hand,  Claude  Fauchet,  preparing  mankind  for 
a  Golden  Age  now  apparently  just  at  hand,  has  opened  his 
Cercle  Social,  with  clerks,  corresponding  boards,  and  so  forth  ; 
iu  the  precincts  of  the  Palais  Royal.  It  is  Te-Deum  Fauchet ; 
the  same  who  preached  on  Fi-anklin's  Death,  in  that  huge  Me- 
dicean  rotunda  of  the  Hallc-aax-hleds.  He  here,  this  winter, 
by  Printing-press  and  melodious  Colloquy,  spreads  bruit  of 
himself  to  the  utmost  City-baiTiers.  '  Ten  thousand  persona 
of  respectability '  attend  there  ;  and  listen  to  this  '  Procareur- 
General  de  la  Veriti,  Attorney-General  of  Truth,'  so  has  lie 
dubbed  himself  ;  to  his  sage  Condorcet,  or  other  eloquent 
coadjutor.  Eloquent  Attorney-General !  He  blows  out  from 
him,  better  or  worse,  what  crude  or  ripe  thing  he  holds :  not 
without  result  to  himself  ;  for  it  leads  to  a  Bishoprick,  though 
only  a  Constitutional  one.  Fauchet  approves  himself  a  glib- 
tongued,  strong-lunged,  whole-hearted  human  indiddual : 
much  flowing  matter  there  is,  and  really  of  the  better  sort, 
about  Right,  Nature,  Benevolence,  Progress  ;  which  flowing 
matter,  whether  '  it  is  pantheistic,'  or  is  pot-theistic,  only  the 
greener  mind,  iu  these  days,  need  examine.  Busy  Brissot  was 
long  ago  of  purjiose  to  establish  precisely  some  such  regenera- 
tive Social  Circle  ;  nay,  he  had  tried  it,  in  '  Ne-muan-street 
Oxford-street,'  of  the  Fog  Babylon  ;  and  failed, — as  some  say, 
surreptitiously  pocketing  the  cash.  Fauchet,  not  Brissot,  was 
fated  to  be  the  happy  man  ;  whereat,  however,  generous  Bris- 
sot will  with  sincere  heart  sing  a  timber-toned  Nunc  Domine.* 
But  '  ten  thousand  persons  of  respectability  : '  what  a  bulk 
have  many  things  in  projDortion  to  their  magnitude !  This 
Cercle  Social,  for  which  Brissot  chants  in  sincere  timber-tones 
such  Nunc  Domine,  what  is  it?  Unfortunately  wind  and 
shadow.  The  main  reality  one  finds  in  it  now,  is  perhaps 
this :  that  an  '  Attorney-General  of  Truth '  did  once  take 
shape  of  a  body,  as  Son  of  Adam,  on  our  Earth,  though  but 
for  months  or  moments  :  and  ten  thousand  persons  of  re- 
spectability attended,  ere  yet  Chaos  and  Nox  had  reabsorbed 
him. 

*  See  Brissot,  Patriote  Franais  Xewspaper  ;  Fauchet,  Bouche-de-Fer, 
&c.  (excerpted  iu  Hist.  Pail.  viii.  ix.  et  seiiq-. 


SWORD  IN  HAND.  383 

Hundred  and  thirty-three  Paris  Journals  ;  regenerative  So- 
cial Circle  ;  oratory,  in  Mother  and  Daughter  Societies,  from 
the  balconies  of  Inns,  by  chimney-nook,  at  dinner-table, — 
polemical,  ending  many  times  in  duel !  Add  ever,  like  a  con- 
stant growling  accompaniment  of  bass  Discord  :  scarcity  of 
work,  scarcity  of  food.  The  wdnter  is  hard  and  cold  ;  ragged 
Baker's  queues,  like  a  black  tattered  flag-of-distress,  wave  out 
ever  and  anon.  It  is  the  third  of  our  Hunger-years  this  new 
year  of  a  glorious  Revolution,  The  rich  man  when  invited 
to  dinner,  in  such  distress-seasons,  feels  bound  in  politeness 
to  carry  his  own  bread  in  his  pocket :  how  the  poor  dine  ? 
And  your  glorious  Revolution  has  done  it,  ci'ies  one.  And 
our  glorious  Revolution  is  subtilely,  by  black  traitors  worthy 
of  the  Lamp-iron,  perverted  to  do  it,  cries  another.  "Who  will 
paint  the  huge  whirlpool  w-herein  France,  all  shivered  into 
wild  incoherence,  whirls?  The  jarring  that  went  on  under 
every  French  roof,  in  every  French  heart ;  the  diseased  things 
that  were  spoken,  done,  the  sum-total  whereof  is  the  French 
Revolution,  tongue  of  man  cannot  tell.  Nor  the  laws  of  ac- 
tion that  work  unseen  in  the  depths  of  that  huge  blind  Inco- 
herence !  With  amazement  not  with  measurement,  men  look 
on  the  Immeasurable  ;  not  knowing  its  laws  ;  seeing  with  all 
different  degrees  of  knowledge,  what  new  phrases,  and  results 
of  event,  its  laws  bring  forth.  France  is  as  a  monstrous  Gal- 
vanic Mass,  wherein  all  sorts  of  far  stranger  than  chemical, 
galvanic  or  electric  forces  and  substances  are  at  work  ;  elec- 
trifying one  another,  positive  and  negative  ;  filling  with  elec- 
tricity your  Leyden-jars. — Twenty-five  millions  in  number! 
As  the  jars  get  full,  there  will,  from  time  to  time,  be,  on  slight 
hint,  an  explosion. 


CHAPTER  m. 

WORD      IN     HAND. 


Oii  such  wonderful  basis,  however,  has  Law,  Royalty,  Au- 
thority, and  whatever  yet  exists  of  Adsible  Order,  to  maintain 
itself  while  it  can.  Here,  as  in  that  Commixtm-e  of  the  Four 
Elements    did    the   Anarch   Old,    has   an   august   Assembly 


3S4  TEE  TUILERIES. 

spread  its  pavilion ;  curtained  by  the  dark  infinite  of  discords ; 
founded  on  the  wavering  bottomless  of  the  Abyss  ;  and  keeps 
continual  hubbub.  Time  is  around  it,  and  Eternity,  and  the 
Inane  ;  and  it  does  what  it  can,  what  is  given  it  to  do. 

Glancing  reluctantly  in,  once  more,  we  discern  little  that  is 
edifying  :  a  Constitutional  Theory  of  Defective  Verbs  strug- 
gling forward,  with  perseverance,  amid  endless  interruptions  : 
Mirabeau,  from  his  tribune,  with  the  weight  of  his  name  and 
genius,  awing  down  much  Jacobin  violence  ;  which  in  return 
vents  itself  the  louder  over  in  its  Jacobins  Hall,  and  even 
reads  him  sharp  lectures  there.*  This  man's  path  is  myste- 
rious, questionable  ;  difficult,  and  he  walks  without  comj)an- 
ion  in  it.  Pure  Patriotism  does  not  now  count  him  among 
her  chosen  ;  pure  Royalism  abhors  him  :  yet  his  weight  with 
the  world  is  overwhelming.  Let  him  travel  on,  companion- 
less,  unwavering,  whither  he  is  bound, — while  it  is  yet  day 
with  him,  and  the  night  has  not  come. 

But  the  chosen  band  of  pure  Patriot  brothers  is  smaU  ; 
counting  only  some  Thu'ty,  seated  now  on  the  extreme  tip  of 
the  Left,  separate  from  the  world.  A  vii-tuous  Petion  :  an 
incorruptible  Robespierre,  most  consistent,  incorruptible  of 
thin  acrid  men  ;  Trium^'irs  Barnave,  Duport,  Lameth,  great  in 
speech,  thought,  action,  each  according  to  his  kind  ;  a  lean 
old  Goupil  de  Prefeln  ;  on  these  and  what  will  follow  them 
has  pure  Patriotism  to  depend. 

There  too,  conspicuous  among  the  Thirty,  if  seldom  audi- 
ble, Philippe  d"Orleans  may  be  seen  sitting  :  in  dim  fuhg- 
ioous  bewilderment ;  having,  one  might  say,  arrived  at  Chaos ! 
Gleams  there  are,  at  once  of  a  Lieutenancy  aaid  Regency  ;  de* 
bates  in  the  Assembly  itself,  of  succession  to  the  Throne  'in 
case  the  present  Branch  should  fail ; '  and  Philippe,  they  say, 
walked  anxiously,  in  silence,  through  the  corridors,  till  such 
high  argument  Avere  done  :  but  it  came  all  to  nothing ;  Mira- 
beau, glaring  into  the  man,  and  through  him,  had  to  ejaculate 
in  strong  untranslatable  language  :  "  Cej — / —  ne  vautpas  la 
peine  qiCon  se  donne  pour  lui."  It  came  all  to  nothing  ;  and 
in  the  meanwhile  Philippe's  money,  they  say,  is  gone  !  Could 
*  Camilli.''o- Journal  (iu  Hist.  Pari,  ix  ,  366-85). 


SWOnD  AY  JIAJVI).  385 

he  refuse  a  little  cash  to  the  gifted  Patriot,  in  want  only  of 
that ;  he  himself  in  want  of  all  but  that?  Not  a  pamj^hlet  can 
be  printed  without  cash  ;  or  indeed  written,  without  food 
purchasable  by  cash.  Without  cash  your  hoiDefuUest  Projector 
cannot  stir  from  the  spot ;  individual  patriotic  or  other  Proj- 
ects require  cash  :  how  much  more  do  wide-sj^read  Intrigues, 
which  hve  and  exist  by  cash  ;  lying  wide-spread,  with  dragon- 
appetite  for  cash  ;  fit  to  swallow  Princedoms  !  And  so  Pi-ince 
PhilipiDe,  amid  his  Sillerys,  Lacloses,  and  confused  Sons  of 
Night,  has  rolled  along  :  the  centre  of  the  strangest  cloudy 
coil ;  out  of  which  has  visibly  come,  as  we  often  sa,j,  an  Epic 
Preternatural  Machinery  of  Suspicion  ;  and  within  which 
there  has  dwelt  and  worked, — what  speciahties  of  treason, 
stratagem,  aimed  or  aimless  endeavour  towards  mischief,  no 
party  living  (if  it  be  not  the  presiding  Genius  of  it.  Prince  of 
the  Power  of  the  Air)  has  now  any  chance  to  know.  CamiUe's 
conjecture  is  the  likehest :  that  poor  Philippe  did  mount  \\\), 
a  httle  way,  in  treasonable  speculation,  as  he  mounted  for- 
merly in  one  of  the  earliest  Balloons  ;  but,  frightened  at  the 
new  position  he  was  getting  into,  had  soon  turned  the  cock 
again,  and  come  down.  More  fool  than  he  rose  !  To  create 
Preternatural  Suspicion,  this  was  his  function  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary Epos.  Bat  now  if  he  have  lost  his  cornucojna  of  ready- 
money,  what  else  had  he  to  lose  ?  In  thick  darkness,  inward 
and  outwcird,  he  must  welter  and  flounder  on,  in  that  piteous 
death-element,  the  hapless  man.  Once,  or  even  twice,  we 
shall  still  behold  him  emerged  ;  struggling  out  of  the  thick 
death-element :  in  vain.  For  one  moment,  it  is  the  last  mo- 
ment, he  starts  aloft,  or  is  flung  aloft,  even  mto  clearness  and 
a  kind  of  memorability, — to  sink  then  forevermore. 

The  Cote  Droit  persists  no  less  ;  nay  with  more  animation 
than  ever,  though  hope  has  now  well  nigh  fled.  Tough 
Abb  J  Maury,  when  the  obscure  country  Royalist  grasps  his 
hand  with  transport  of  thanks,  answers,  rolling  his  indomi- 
table brazen  head  :  "  Helas,  Monsieur,  all  that  I  do  here  is  as 
"  good  as  simply  nothing"  Gallant  Faussigny,  visible  this 
one  time  in  History,  advances  frantic,  into  the  middle  of  the 
Hall,  exclaiming  :  "  There  is  but  one  way  of  dealing  with  it. 
Vol.  I.— 25 


o8G  THE  rviLERins. 

"  aud  that  is  to  fall  sword  iu  Land  on  those  gentry  there, 
"sabre  d  la  main  sur  ecu  cjaillards  la,"  *  frantically  indicating 
our  chosen  Thirty  on  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left !  "Where- 
upon in  clangour  and  clamour,  debate,  repentance, — evapora- 
tion. Things  ripen  towards  downright  iucompatibihtj',  and 
■what  is  called  '  scission  : '  that  fierce  theoretic  onslaught  of 
Faussigny's  "was  iu  August,  1790  ;  next  August  Avill  not  have 
come,  till  a  famed  Two  Hundred  and  Ninety-two,  the  chosen 
of  Roj'alism,  make  solemn  final  '  scission  '  from  an  Assembly 
given  up  to  faction  ;  and  depart,  shaking  the  dust  oif  their 
feet. 


Connected  with  this  matter  of  sword  in  hand,  there  is  yet 
another  thing  to  be  noted.  Of  duels  we  have  sometimes 
spoken  :  how,  in  all  parts  of  France,  innumerable  duels  were 
fought ;  and  argumentative  men  and  messmates,  flinging 
down  the  wine-cup  and  weapons  of  reason  and  repartee,  met 
in  the  measured  field  to  part  bleeding  ;  or  perhaps  md  to 
part,  but  to  fall  mutually  skewered  through  with  iron,  theii- 
WTath  and  life  alike  ending, — and  die  as  fools  die.  Long  has 
this  lasted,  and  still  lasts.  But  now  it  would  seem  as  if  in  an 
august  Assembly  itseK,  traitorous  Royalism,  in  its  despair, 
had  taken  to  a  new  course  :  that  of  cutting  off  Patriotism  by 
systematic  duel !  Bully-swordsmen,  '  Spadassins '  of  that 
party,  go  swaggering ;  or  indeed  they  can  be  had  for  a  trifle 
of  money.  '  Twelve  Spadassins '  were  seen,  by  the  yellow  eye 
of  Journalism,  '  arriving  recently  out  of  Switzerland  ; '  also  '  a 
*  considerable  number  of  Assassins,  nomhre  considerable  d'aa- 
'  sassins,  exercising  in  fencing-schools  and  at  pistol-targets.' 
Any  Patriot  Deputy  of  mark  can  be  called  out ;  let  him  es- 
cape one  time,  or  ten  times,  a  time  there  necessarily  is  when 
he  must  fall,  and  France  mourn.  How  many  cartels  has  Mira- 
beau  had  ;  especially  while  he  was  the  People's  champion ! 
Cartels  by  the  hundred  :  which  lie,  since  the  Constitution 
must  be  made  first  and  his  time  is  precious,  answers  now  al- 
ways with  a  kind  of  stereotA-iie  formula :  '  Monsieur,  you  are 

*  ^loiiiteur,  SCance  da  ,1  Ao.'.t,  1790- 


SWORD  ly  IIAXD.  3S( 

'put  upon  my  List  ;  but  I  warn  ycu  that  it  is  long,  and  I 
'  grant  no  preferences.' 

Then,  in  Autumn,  had  -we  not  the  Duel  of  Cazales  and  Bar- 
nave  ;  the  two  chief  masters  of  tongue-shot  meeting  now  to 
exchange  pistol-shot?  For  Cazalts,  chief  of  the  Eoyalists, 
whom  we  call  'Blacks  or  Noirs,'  saitl,  in  a  moment  of  passion, 
"the  Patriots  were  sheer  Brigands,"  nay,  in  so  speaking,  he 
darted,  or  seemed  to  dart,  a  tire-glance  specially  at  Barnave  ; 
who  thereupon  could  not  reply  but  by  fire-glances, — by  ad- 
journment to  the  Bois-de-Boulogne.  Banaave"s  second  shot 
took  effect ;  on  Cazales's  haf.  The  '  front  nook  '  of  a  triangu- 
lar Felt,  such  as  mortals  then  wore,  deadened  the  ball ;  and 
saved  that  fine  brow  from  more  than  temporary  injury.  But 
how  easily  might  the  lot  have  fallen  the  other  way,  and  Bar- 
nave's  hat  not  been  so  good  ?  Patriotism  raises  its  loud  de- 
nunciation of  Duelling  in  general ;  petitions  an  august  As 
sembly  to  stop  such  Feudal  barbarism  by  law.  Barbarism 
and  solecism  :  for  will  it  convince  or  convict  any  man  to  blow 
half  an  ounce  of  lead  through  the  head  of  him  ?  Surely  not. 
— Barnave  was  received  at  the  Jacobins  with  embraces,  yet 
with  rebukes. 

Mindful  of  which,  and  also  that  his  reputation  in  America 
was  that  of  headlong  foolhardiness  rather,  and  want  of  brain 
not  of  heart,  Charles  Lameth  does,  on  the  eleventh  day  of 
November,  with  little  emotion,  decline  attending  some  hot 
young  Gentleman  from  Artois,  come  expressly  to  challenge 
him  :  nay  indeed  he  first  coldly  engages  to  attend  ;  then  coldly 
permits  two  Friends  to  attend  instead  of  him,  and  shame  the 
young  Gentleman  out  of  it,  which  they  successfully  do.  A  cold 
procedure  ;  satisfactory  to  the  two  Friends,  to  Lameth  and 
the  hot  young  Gentleman  ;  whereby  one  might  have  fancied, 
the  whole  matter  was  cooled  down. 

Not  so,  however  :  Lameth,  proceeding  to  his  senatorial  du- 
ties, in  the  decline  of  the  day,  is  met  in  those  Assembly  corri- 
dors by  nothing  but  Royalist  brocards ;  sniffs,  huffs,  and  open 
insults.  Human  patience  has  its  Hmits  :  "  Monsieur,"  said 
Lameth,  breaking  silence  to  one  Lautrec,  a  man  Avith  hunch- 
back, or  natural  deformity,  but  sharp  of  tongue,  and  a  Jilack 


3S8  nil  J  Tl'U.ERILS. 

of  the  deepest  tint,  "  Mousieur,  if  you  were  a  man  to  be  fought 
witli !  " — "  I  am  one, "  cries  the  young  Duke  de  Castries.  Fast 
as  fireflash  Lameth  rephes,  "  Toul  a  Hieure,  on  the  instant, 
then  !  "  And  so,  as  the  shades  of  dusk  thicken  in  that  Bois- 
de-Boulogne,  we  behold  two  men  with  Hon-look,  with  alert 
attitude,  side  foremost,  right  foot  advanced  ;  flourishing  and 
thrusting,  stoccado  and  passado,  in  tierce  ixnd  quart ;  intent 
to  skewer  one  another.  See,  with  most  skewering  purpose, 
headlong  Lameth,  with  his  whole  weight,  makes  a  furious 
lunge  ;  but  deft  Castries  whisks  aside  :  Lameth  skewers  only 
the  air, — and  slits  deep  and  far,  on  Castries'  sword  point,  his 
own  extended  left  arm  !  Whereupon,  with  bleeding,  pallor, 
surgeon's-lint,  and  formalities,  the  Duel  is  considered  satisfac- 
torily done. 

But  will  there  be  no  end,  then  ?  Beloved  Lameth  lies  deep- 
slit,  not  out  of  danger.  Black  traitorous  Aristocrats  kill  the 
People's  defenders,  cut  up  not  with  arguments,  but  with  ra- 
pier-slits. And  the  Twelve  Spadassins  out  of  Switzerland,  and 
the  considerable  number  of  Assassins  exercising  at  the  pistol- 
target?  So  meditates  and  ejaculates  hurt  Patriotism,  with 
ever-deepening,  ever- widening  fervour,  for  the  sj)ace  of  six  and 
and  thirty  hours. 

The  thirty-six  hours  past,  on  Satui'day  the  13th,  one  beholds 
a  new  spectacle  :  The  Rue  de  Varennes,  and  neighbouring  Bou- 
levard des  Invalides,  covered  with  a  mixed  flowing  multitude  : 
the  Castries  Hotel  gone  distracted,  deril-ridden,  belching  from 
every  w-iudow,  '  beds  with  clothes  and  curtains,'  plate  of  silver 
and  gold  with  filigree,  mirrors,  pictures,  images,  commodes, 
chiffoniers,  and  endless  crockery  and  jingle  :  amid  steady  jiop- 
ular  cheers,  absolutely  without  theft :  for  there  goes  a  cry, 
"He  shall  be  hanged  that  steals  a  nail."  It  is  a  Plebiscitum, 
or  informal  iconoclastic  Decree  of  the  Common  People,  in  the 
course  of  being  executed  ! — The  Municipality  sit  tremulous  ; 
deliberating  whether  they  will  hang  out  the  Drapeau.  llourje 
and  Martial  Law  ;  National  Assembly,  i:)art  in  loud  wail,  part 
in  hfu'dly  suppressed  applause  ;  Abbe  ^Laury  unable  to  decide 
whether  the  iconoclastic  Plebs  amount  to  forty  thousand  or  to 
two  hundred  thousand. 


TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  3S9 

Deputations,  swift  messengers,  for  it  is  at  a  distance  over 
the  Kiver,  come  and  go.  Lafayette  and  National  Guards, 
though  without  Drapeau  Rouge,  get  under  way  ;  apparently 
in  no  hot  haste.  Nay,  arrived  on  the  scene,  Lafayette  salutes 
with  doffed  hat,  before  ordering  to  fix  bayonets.  What  avails 
it?  The  Plebeian  'Court  of  Cassation,'  as  Camille  might 
jiunningly  name  it,  has  done  its  work  ;  steps  forth,  with  un- 
buttoned vest,  with  jDOckets  turned  inside  out :  sack,  and  just 
ravage,  not  plunder  !  With  inexhaustible  patience,  the  Hero 
of  two  Worlds  remonstrates  ;  persuasively,  with  a  kind  of 
sweet  constraint,  though  also  with  fixed  bayonets,  dissipates, 
hushes  down  :  on  the  morrow  it  is  once  more  all  as  usual. 

Considering  which  things,  however,  Duke  Castries  may  justly 
'  write  to  the  President,'  justly  transport  himself  across  the 
Marches  ;  to  raise  a  corps,  or  do  w^hat  else  is  in  him.  Royal- 
ism  totally  abandons  that  Bobadilian  method  of  contest,  and 
the  twelve  Sjyadassins  return  to  Switzerland, — or  even  to 
Dreamland  through  the  Hoi'n-gate,  whichsoever  their  true 
home  is.  Nay,  Editor  Prudhomme  is  authorised  to  publish  a 
curious  thing  :  '  W^e  are  authorised  to  publish,'  says  he,  dull 
blustei'ing  Publisher,  '  that  M.  Boyer,  champion  of  good  Pa- 
triots, is  at  the  head  of  Fifty  Spadassinicides  or  Bully  killfirs. 
'  His  Address  is  :  Passage  du  Bois-de-Boulogne,  Faubourg  St. 
'Denis.'*  One  of  the  strangest  Institutes,  this  of  Champion 
Boyer  and  the  Bully-killers  !  Whose  services,  however,  are 
not  wanted  :  Royalism  having  abandoned  the  rapier-method 
as  plainly  impracticable. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TO    FLY    OR    NOT    TO    FLY. 

The  truth  is,  Royalism  sees  itself  verging  towards  sad  ex- 
tremities ;  nearer  and  nearer  daily.     From  over  the  Rhine  it 
comes  asserted  that  the  King  in  his  Tuileries  is  not  free  :  this 
the  poor  King  may  contradict,  with  the  ofiicial  mouth,  but  in 
*  Revolutions  de  Faris  in  Hist   Pari,  viil  .-440). 


300  TUB  TUILEIilES. 

his  heart  feels  often  to  be  undeniable.  Ci\-il  Constitution  of 
the  Clergy  ;  Decree  of  ejectment  against  Dissidents  from  it : 
not  even  to  this  latter,  though  almost  his  conscience  rebels, 
can  he  say  Nay  ;  but,  after  two  mouths'  hesitating-,  signs  this 
also.  It  was  '  on  Januaiy  21st,'  of  this  1791,  that  he  signed 
it  ;  to  the  sorrow  of  his  poor  heart  yet,  on  another  Twenty- 
first  of  January  !  "Whereby  come  Dissident  ejected  Priests  ; 
imconquerable  Martyrs  according  to  some,  incurable  chican- 
ing Traitors  according  to  others.  And  so  there  has  arrived 
what  we  once  foreshadowed  :  with  Keligion,  or  with  the  Cant 
and  Echo  of  Eehgion,  all  France  is  rent  asunder  in  a  new 
rupture  of  continuity ;  complicating,  embittering  all  the 
older ; — to  be  cured  only,  by  stern  surgery,  in  La  Vendee  ! 

Unhappy  Koyalty,  unhappy  Majesty,  Hereditary  Kepresen- 
tative,  Representant  Hereditaire,  or  howsoever  they  may  name 
him  ;  of  whom  much  is  exjDected,  to  whom  httle  is  given  ! 
Blue  National  Guards  encircle  that  Tuileries  ;  a  Lafayette, 
thin  constitutional  Pedant ;  clear,  thin,  inflexible,  as  water 
turned  to  tliin  ice  ;  whom  no  Queen's  heart  can  love.  Na- 
tional Assembly,  its  jDavilion  spread  where  we  knoAv,  sits  near 
by,  keeping  continual  hubbub.  From  without,  nothing  but 
Nanci  Eevolts,  sack  of  Castries  Hotels,  riots  and  seditions ; 
riots  North  and  South  :  at  Aix,  at  Douai,  at  B:fort,  Usez,  Per- 
pignam,  at  Nismes,  and  that  incurable  Avignon  of  the  Pope's  : 
a  continual  crackling  and  sputtering  of  riots  from  the  whole 
face  of  France  ; — testifying  how  electric  it  gi-ows.  Add  only 
the  hard  winter,  the  famished  strikes  of  operatives  ;  that  con- 
tinual running-bass  of  Scarcity,  sound-tone  and  basis  of  all 
other  Discords  ! 

The  plan  of  Royalty,  so  far  as  it  can  be  said  to  have  any 
fixed  plan,  is  still,  as  ever,  that  of  flying  towards  the  frontiers. 
In  very  truth,  the  only  plan  of  the  smallest  promise  for  it ! 
Fly  to  Bouille  ;  biistle  yourself  round  with  cannon,  served  by 
your  '  foi-ty-thonsand  undcbauched  Germans  : '  summon  the 
National  Assembly  to  follow  you,  summon  what  of  it  is  Pioyal- 
ist.  Constitutional,  gainable  by  money ;  dissolve  the  rest  by 
grapeshot  if  need  be.     Let  Jacobinism  and  revolt,  with  one 


TO  FLY  on  NOT  TO  FLY.  391 

wild  wail,  fly  into  Infinite  Space  ;  driven  by  grapesliot.  Thun- 
der over  France  with  the  cannon's  mouth  ;  commanding,  not 
entreating,  that  this  riot  cease.  And  then  to  rule  afterwards 
with  utmost  jDossible  Constitutionality  ;  doing  justice,  loving 
mercy ;  heing  Shepherd  of  this  indigent  People,  not  Shearer 
merely,  and  Shepherd's-similitude  !  All  this,  if  ye  dare.  If 
ye  dare  not,  then  in  Heaven's  name  go  to  sleep  :  other  hand- 
some alternative  seems  none. 

Nay,  it  were  perhaps  possible  ;  with  a  man  to  do  it.  For 
if  such  inexpressible  whirlpool  of  Babylonish  confusions 
(which  our  Era  is)  cannot  be  stilled  by  man,  but  only  by 
Time  and  men,  a  man  may  moderate  its  paroxysms,  may 
balance  and  sway,  and  keep  himself  unswallowed  on  the  top 
of  it, — as  several  men  and  I^ngs  in  these  days  do.  Much  is 
possible  for  a  man  ;  men  will  obey  a  man  that  kens  and  cans, 
and  name  him  reverently  their  Ken-nincj  or  King.  Did  not 
Charlemagne  rule?  Consider  too  whether  he  had  smooth 
times  of  it  ;  hanging  '  four-thousand  Saxons  over  the  Weser- 
Bridge,'  at  one  dread  swoop  !  So  likewise,  who  knows  but, 
in  this  same  distracted  fanatic  France,  the  right  man  may 
verily  exist  ?  An  ohve-complexioned  taciturn  man  ;  for  the 
present,  Lieutenant  in  the  Artillery-service,  who  once  sat 
studying  Mathematics  at  Brienne  ?  The  same  who  walked  in 
the  morning  to  correct  proof-sheets  at  D>!.le,  and  enjoyed  a 
frugal  breakfast  with  M.  Joly  ?  Such  a  one  is  gone,  whither 
also  famed  General  Paoli  his  friend  is  gone,  in  these  very 
days,  to  see  old  scenes  in  native  Corsica,  and  what  Demo- 
cratic good  can  be  done  there. 

Royalty  never  executes  the  evasion-plan,  yet  never  abandons 
it ;  living  in  variable  hope  ;  undecisive,  till  fortune  shall  de- 
cide. In  utmost  secrecy,  a  brisk  Correspondence  goes  on  with 
Bouille  ;  there  is  also  a  plot,  which  emerges  more  than  once, 
for  carrj'ing  the  King  to  Rouen  ;*  plot  after  plot,  emerging 
and  submerging,  like  ignes  fatui  in  foul  weather,  which  lead 
nowhither.  'About  ten  o'clock  at  night,'  the  Hereditary  Rep- 
resentative, in  partie  quarr'ee,  with  the  Queen,  with  brother 
*  Sec  Hist.  Pari.  (vii.  316)  ;  Eertrand-Moleville,  &c. 


392  THE  TUILERIES. 

Monsieur,  and  Madame,  sits  playing  '  iviaJc,'  or  whist.  Usher 
Campan  enters  mysteriously,  with  a  message  he  only  half 
comprehends  :  How  a  certain  Comte  d'Inisdal  waits  anxious 
in  the  outer  antechamber  ;  National  Colonel,  Captain  of  the 
watch  for  this  night,  is  gained  over  ;  post-horses  ready  all  the 
way  ;  party  of  Noblesse  sitting  armed,  determined  ;  will  His 
Majesty,  before  midnight,  consent  to  go  ?  Profound  silence  ; 
Campan  waiting  with  upturned  ear.  "Did  your  Majesty  hear 
what  Campan  said?"  asks  the  Queen.  "Yes,  I  heard,"  an- 
swers Majesty,  and  j)lays  on.  "  'Twas  a  pretty  couplet,  that 
of  Campan's,"  hints  Monsieur,  who  at  times  showed  a  pleasant 
wit :  Majesty,  still  unresponsive,  plays  wisk.  "  After  all,  one 
must  say  something  to  Camjjan,"  remarks  the  Queen.  "  Tell 
M.  d'Inisdal,"  said  the  King,  and  the  Queen  puts  an  emphasis 
on  it,  "  That  the  King  cixniiot consent  to  be  forced  away." — "I 
see  !  "  said  d'Inisdal,  whisking  round,  peaking  himself  into 
flame  of  irritancy  :  "  we  have  the  risk  ;  we  are  to  have  all  the 
blame  if  it  fail,"  '•' — and  vanishes,  he  and  his  plot,  as  will-o'- 
wisps  do.  The  Queen  sat  till  far  in  the  night,  packing  jewels  : 
but  it  came  to  nothing  ;  in  that  peaked  flame  of  irritanc}'  the 
Will-o'-wisp  had  gone  out. 

Little  hope  there  is  in  all  this.  Alas,  with  wliom  to  fly  ? 
Our  loyal  Gardes-du- Corps,  ever  since  the  Insurrection  of 
Women,  are  disbanded ;  gone  to  their  homes ;  gone,  many  of 
them,  across  the  Rhine  towards  Coblentz  and  Exiled  Princes  : 
brave  Miomandre  and  brave  Tardivet,  these  faithful  Two,  have 
received,  in  nocturnal  interview  with  both  Majesties,  their 
viaticum  of  gold  louis,  of  heartfelt  thanks  from  a  Queen's  lips, 
though  unluckily  'his  Majesty  stood,  back  to  fire,  not  speak- 
ing ; '  f  and  do  now  dine  through  the  Provinces  ;  recounting 
hairsbreadth  escapes,  insun-ectionary  horrors.  Great  horrors  ; 
to  be  swallowed  yet  of  greater.  But,  on  the  whole,  what  a 
falling  off  from  the  old  splendour  of  Versailles !  Here  in  this 
poor  Tuileries  a  National  Brewer-Colonel,  sonorous  Santerre, 
parades  officially  behind  her  Majesty's  chair.  Our  high  dig- 
nitaries, all  fled  over  the  Rhine  :  notliing  now  to  be  gained  at 
Court ;  but  hopes,  for  which  life  itself  must  be  risked!  Ob- 
•  C'.irapan,  ii.  \  Cimpn^i,  ii. 


TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  393 

iscure  busy  men  frequent  the  back  stairs  ;  with  hearsays,  wind- 
projects,  unfruitful  fanfaronades.  Young  Eoyalists,  at  the 
Theatre  de  Vaudeville,  'sing  couplets  ;'  if  that  could  do  any- 
thing. Royalists  enough,  Captains  on  furlough,  burnt-out 
Ssigneurs,  may  likewise  be  met  with,  '  in  the  Cafe  de  Valois, 
and  at  Meot  the  Restaurateur's.'  There  they  fan  one  another 
into  high  loyal  glow  ;  drink  in  such  wine  as  can  be  procured, 
confusion  to  Sansculottism  ;  show  purchased  dirks,  of  an  im- 
proved structure,  made  to  order ;  and,  greatly  daring,  dine.* 
It  is  in  these  places,  in  these  months,  that  the  epithet  Sanscit' 
lotte  first  gets  applied  to  indigent  Patriotism  ;  in  the  last  age 
we  had  Gilbert  Sansculotte,  the  indigent  Poet.f  Destitute-of- 
Breechei:  a  mournful  Destitution;  which  however,  if  Twenty 
millions  share  it,  may  become  more  effective  than  most  Pos- 
sessions ! 

Meanwhile,  amid  this  vague  dim  whirl  of  fanfaronades,  wind- 
projects,  poniards  made  to  order,  there  does  disclose  itself  one 
pundum-saliens  oi  life  and  feasibility  :  the  finger  of  Mirabeau  ! 
Mirabeau  and  the  Queen  of  France  have  met ;  have  parted 
with  mutual  trust !  It  is  strange  ;  secret  as  the  Mysteries ; 
but  it  is  indubitable.  Mirabeau  took  horse,  one  evening  ;  and 
rode  westward,  unattended, — to  see  Friend  Claviere  in  that 
country  house  of  his  ?  Before  getting  to  Claviere's,  the  much- 
musing  horseman  struck  aside  to  a  back  gate  of  the  Garden  ol 
Saint-Cloud  :  some  Duke  d'Aremberg,  or  the  like,  w^as  there  to 
introduce  him  ;  the  Queen  w^as  not  far  :  on  a  '  round  knoll, 
rond  point  the,  highest  of  the  Garden  of  Saint-Cloud,'  he  be- 
held the  Queen's  face  ;  spake  with  her  alone,  under  the  void 
canopy  of  Night.  What  an  intervicAv  ;  fateful  secret  for  us, 
after  all  searching;  like  the  colloquies  of  the  gods! J  She 
called  him  '  a  Mirabeau  : '  elsewhere  we  read  that  she  '  was 
charmed  with  him,'  the  wild  submitted  Titan  ;  as  indeed  it  is 
among  the  honourable  tokens  of  this  high  ill-fated  heart  that 
no  mind  of  any  endowment,  no  Mirabeau,  nay  no  Barnave,  no 
Dumouriez,  ever  came  face  to  face  with  her  but,  in  spite  of  all 
prepossessions,  she  was  forced  to  recognise  it,  to  draw  nigh  to 
*  Eami^martin,  ii.  129.  f  Mercier  :  Nonveau  Faris,  iii.  2C4. 

X  Ganipan,  ii   c.  17. 


394  THE  r CILERIES. 

it,  with  tiiist.  High  imperial  heart ;  with  the  instinctive  at- 
traction  towards  all  that  had  any  height !  "You  know  not 
the  Queen,"  said  Mirabeau  once  in  confidence  :  "  her  force  of 
miud  is  prodigious  ;  she  is  a  man  for  courage."  * — And  so, 
under  the  void  Night,  on  the  crown  of  that  knoll,  she  has 
spoken  with  a  Mirabeau  :  he  has  kissed  loyally  the  queenly 
hand,  and  said  with  enthusiasm  :  "  Madam,  the  Monarchy 
is  saved  !  " — Possible  ?  The  Foreign  Powers,  mysteriously 
sounded,  gave  favourable  guarded  resjoonse  ;  f  Bouillj  is  at 
Metz,  and  could  find  forty-thousand  sure  Germans.  ATith  a 
Mirabeau  for  head,  and  a  Bouillo  for  hand,  something  verily 
is  possible, — if  Fate  intervene  not. 

But  figm-e  under  what  thousandfold  wrappages,  and  cloaks 
of  darkness.  Royalty,  meditating  these  things,  must  involve 
itself.  There  are  men  with  '  Tickets  of  Entrance  ; '  tliere  are 
chivalrous  consultings,  mysterious  plottings.  Consider  also 
Avhether,  involve  as  it  like,  plotting  Royalty  can  escape  the 
glance  of  Patriotism  ;  lynx-eyes,  by  the  ten  thousand,  fixed 
on  it,  which  see  in  the  dark  !  Patriotism  knows  much  :  knows 
the  du-ks  made  to  order,  and  can  specify  the  shops  ;  knows 
Sieur  Motier's  legions  of  mouchards ;  the  Tickets  of  Entree, 
and  men  in  black  ;  and  how  plan  of  evasion  succeeds  plan, — 
or  may  be  supposed  to  succeed  it.  Then  conceive  the  couplets 
chaunted  at  the  Theatre  de  Vaudeville;  or  worse,  the  whisjjers, 
significant  nods  of  traitoi-s  in  moustaches.  Conceive,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  loud  cry  of  alarm  that  came  through  the 
Hundred-and-Thirty  Journals  ;  The  Dionysius'-Ear  of  each  of 
the  Forty-eight  Sections,  wakeful  night  and  day. 

Pati-iotism  is  patient  of  much ;  not  patient  of  all.  The  Cafe 
de  Frocope  has  sent,  visibly  along  the  streets,  a  Deputation  of 
Patriots,  '  to  expostulate  with  bad  Editors,'  by  trustful  word 
of  mouth :  singular  to  see  and  hear.  The  bad  Editors  promise 
to  amend,  but  do  not.  Deputations  for  change  of  Ministry 
were  many ;  Mayor  Bailly  joining  even  with  Cordelier  Danton 
in  such,  and  they  have  prevailed.  "With  what  profit  ?  Of 
Quacks,  willing  or  constrained  to  be  quacks,  the  race  is  ever« 

♦Dumont,  p.  211. 

f  Correspondenct?  Fecr'to   hi  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  1G9-73). 


TO  FLY  OR  NOT  TO  FLY.  395 

lasting  :  Ministers  Duportail  and  Daterte  will  have  to  manage 
much  as  Ministers  Latour-du-Piu  and  Cice  did.  So  weltera 
the  confused  world. 

Bat  now,  beaten  on  forever  by  such  inextricable  contra- 
dictory influences  and  evidences,  what  is  the  indigent  French 
Patriot,  in  these  unhappy  days,  to  believe,  and  walk  by  ?  Un- 
certainty all  ;  except  that  he  is  wi-etched,  indigent ;  that  a 
glorious  Eevolution,  the  wonder  of  the  Universe,  hath  hitherto 
brought  neither  Bread  nor  Peace  ;  being  marred  by  traitors, 
difficult  to  discover.  Traitors  that  dwell  in  the  dark,  in\'isible 
there  ; — or  seen  for  moments  in  pallid  dubious  twilight, 
stealthily  vanishing  thither !  Preternatural  Suspicion  once 
more  rules  the  minds  of  men. 

'Nobody  here,'  writes  Carra,  of  the  Annales  Patriotiques,  so 
early  as  the  first  of  February,  '  can  entertain  a  doubt  of  the 
'  constant  obstinate  project  these  people  have  on  foot  to  get 
'  the  King  away ;  or  of  the  perpetual  succession  of  manoeuvres 
'  they  employ  for  that.'  Nobody  :  the  watchful  Mother  of 
Patriotism  deputed  two  Members  to  her  Daughter  at  Versailles, 
to  examine  how  the  matter  looked  there.  Well,  and  there? 
Patriotic  Carra  continues  :  '  The  Report  of  these  two  deputies 
'  we  all  heard  with  our  own  ears  last  Saturday.  They  went 
'  with  others  of  Versailles,  to  inspect  the  King's  Stables,  also 
'  the  stables  of  the  whilom  Gardes-dn.-Corps ;  they  found  there 
'  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  horses  standing  always  saddled 
'  and  bridled,  ready  for  the  road  at  a  moment's  notice.  The 
'  same  deputies,  moreover,  saw  with  their  own  two  eyes  several 
'Royal  Carriages,  which  men  were  even  then  busy  loading 
*  with  large  well-stuffed  luggage-bags,'  leather  cows,  as  we  call 
them,  '  caches  de  cuir :  the  Royal  Arms  on  the  panels  almost 
'  entirely  effaced.'  Momentous  enough  !  Also,  '  on  the  same 
'  day  the  whole  Marechaussee,  or  Cavalry  Police,  did  assemble 
'with  arms,  horses  and  baggage,' — and  disperse  again.  They 
want  the  King  over  the  marches,  that  so  Emperor  Leopold 
and  the  German  Princes,  whose  troops  are  ready,  may  have  a 
pretext  for  beginning:  'this,'  adds  Carra,  'is  the  word  of 
'  the  riddle  :  this  is  the  reason-why  our  fugitive  Aristocrats 
'are  now  making  le\ies  of  men  on  the  frontiers  ;  expecting 


o9G  THE  TUILEIUES. 

'  that,  one  of  these  mornings,  the  Executive  Chief  Magistrate 
'  will  be  brought  over  to  them,  and  the  civil  war  commence.'  * 

If  indeed  the  Executive  Chief  Magistrate,  bagged,  say  in 
one  of  these  leather  cows,  were  once  brought  safe  over  to 
them  !  But  the  strangest  thing  of  all  is  that  Patriotism, 
whether  barking  at  a  venture,  or  guided  by  some  instinct  of 
pretei'natural  sagacity,  is  actually  barking  ariglit  this  time  ; 
at  something,  not  at  nothing.  Bouille's  Secret  Correspond- 
ence, since  made  public,  testifies  as  much. 

Na3%  it  is  undeniable,  visible  to  all,  that  Mesdames  the 
King's  Aunts  are  taking  steps  for  departure  :  asking  pass- 
ports of  the  Ministry,  safe-conducts  of  the  Municii^ality  ; 
which  Marat  warns  all  men  to  beware  of.  They  will  caiTy 
gold  with  them,  'these  old  Beguines  •/  nay,  they  will  cany 
the  little  Dauj)hin,  'having  nm-sed  a  changeling,  for  some 
'  time,  to  leave  in  his  stead  ! '  Besides,  they  are  as  some  light 
substance  flung  up,  to  show  how  the  wind  sits  ;  a  kind  of 
proof-kite  you  fly  off  to  ascertain  whether  the  grand  paper- 
kite.  Evasion  of  the  King,  may  mount ! 

In  these  alarming  circumstances,  Patriotism  is  not  wanting 
to  itself.  MuniciiDality  deputes  to  the  King  ;  Sections  dejiute 
to  the  Municipality ;  a  National  Assembly  will  soon  stir. 
Meanwhile,  behold,  on  the  19th  of  February,  1791,  Me&- 
dames,  quitting  Bellevue  and  Versailles  with  all  privacy,  are 
off !  Towards  Rome,  seemingly  ;  or  one  knows  not  whither. 
They  are  not  without  King's  passports,  countersigned  ;  and 
what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  a  serviceable  Escort.  The  Pa-. 
triotic  Mayor  or  Mayorlet  of  the  Village  of  Moret  tried  ta 
detain  them  :  but  brisk  Louis  de  Narbonne,  of  the  Escort, 
dashed  off  at  hand-gallop  ;  returned  soon  with  thirty  dra. 
goons  and  victoriously  cut  them  out.  And  so  the  poor  an- 
cient women  go  their  way ;  to  the  terror  of  France  and  Paris, 
whose  nervous  excitability  is  become  extreme.  Who  else 
would  hinder  poor  Loque  and  Graille,  now  grown  so  old,  and 
fallen  into  such  unexpected  circumstances,  when  gossip  itself 
turning  only  on  terrors  and  horrors  is  no  longer  pleasant  to 
the  mind,  and  you  cannot  get  so  much  as  an  orthodox  con- 
*  C.irra's  Xewspnper,  L-t  Feb.,  1791  (in  Hist.  Pnrl.  ix.  39). 


TO   FLY   on  yOT  TO   FLY.  397 

fessor  in  peace, — from  going  what  way  soever  the  hope  of 
any  solacemeut  might  lead  them  ? 

They  go,  poor  ancient  dames, — whom  the  heart  were  hard 
that  did  not  pity  :  they  go  ;  with  palpitations,  with  unmelo- 
dious  suppressed  screechiugs ;  all  France,  screeching  and 
cackling,  in  loud  lirtsuppressed  terror,  behind  and  on  both 
hands  of  them  :  such  mutual  suspicion  is  among  men.  At 
Ai-nay  le  Due,  above  half-way  to  the  frontiers,  a  Patriotic 
Municipality  and  Populace  again  takes  courage  to  stop  them: 
Louis  Narbonne  must  now  back  to  Paris,  must  consult  the 
National  Assembly.  National  Assembly  ansvv^ers,  not  without 
an  effort,  that  Mesdames  may  go.  Whereuj)on  Paris  rises 
worse  than  ever,  screeching  half-distracted.  Tuileries  and 
precincts  are  filled  with  women  and  men,  while  the  National 
Assembly  debates  this  question  of  questions  ;  Lafayette  is 
needed  at  night  for  dispersing  them,  and  the  streets  are  to 
be  illuminated.  Commandant  Berthier,  a  Berthier  before 
Avhom  are  great  things  unknown,  lies  for  the  present  under 
blockade  at  Bellevue  in  Versailles.  By  no  tactics  could  he 
get  Mesdames'  Luggage  stirred  from  the  Courts  there  ;  fran- 
tic Versaillese  women  came  screaming  about  him  ;  his  very 
troop  cut  the  wagon-traces  ;  he  'retired  to  the  interior,'  Avail- 
ing better  times.* 

Nay,  in  these  same  hours,  while  Mesdames  hardly  cut  out 
from  Moret  by  the  sabre's  edge,  are  driving  rapidly,  to  for- 
eign parts,  and  not  yet  stopped  at  Arnay,  their  august 
Nephew,  poor  Monsieur,  at  Paris,  has  dived  deep  into  his 
cellars  of  the  Luxembourg  for  shelter  ;  and,  according  to 
Montgaillard,  can  hardly  be  persuaded  up  again.  Screeching 
multitudes  environ  that  Luxembourg  of  his  ;  drawn  thither 
by  the  report  of  his  departure  ;  but,  at  sight  and  sound  of 
Monsieur,  they  become  crowing  multitudes  ;  and  escort  Ma- 
dame and  him  to  the  Tuileries  with  vivats.f  It  is  a  state  of 
nervous  excitability  such  as  few  nations  know. 

*  Campan,  ii.  132. 

f  Montgaillard,  ii.  283. — Deux  Amis,  vi.  c.  1. 


398  THE   rUILERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    DAY   OF   PONIARDS. 


Or,  again,  what  means  this  visible  reparation  of  the  Castla 
of  Yiuceunes  ?  Other  Jails  being  all  crowded  Avitli  prisouei'S, 
new  space  is  wanted  here  :  that  is  the  Municipal  account. 
For  in  such  changing  of  Judicatures,  Parlements  being  abol- 
ished, and  New  Courts  but  just  set  ujd,  prisoners  have  accu- 
mulated. Not  to  say  that  in  these  times  of  discord  and  club- 
law,  offences  and  committals  are,  at  any  rate,  more  numerous. 
"Which  Municipal  account,  does  it  not  sufficiently  explain  the 
phenomenon  ?  Surely,  to  repair  the  Castle  of  Vincennes  was 
of  all  enterprises  that  an  enlightened  Municipality  could  un- 
dertake, the  most  innocent. 

Not  so  however  does  neighbouring  Saint-Antoine  look  on 
it :  Saint-Antoine,  to  whom  these  i^eaked  turrets  and  grini 
donjons,  ail-too  near  her  own  dark  dwelhng,  are  of  themselves 
an  offence.  Was  not  Vincennes  a  kind  of  minor  Bastille? 
Great  Diderot  and  Philosojihes  have  lain  in  durance  here  ; 
great  jMirabeau,  in  disastrous  eclipse,  for  forty-two  months. 
And  now  when  the  old  Bastille  has  become  a  dancing  ground 
(had  any  one  the  mirth  to  dance),  and  its  stones  are  getting  built 
into  the  Pont  Louis-Seize,  does  this  minor,  comparative  insig- 
nificance of  a  Bastille  flank  itself  with  fresh-he  v,-n  mull  ions, 
spread  out  tyrannous  wings  ;  menacing  Patriotism  ?  New  space 
for  prisoners  :  and  what  prisoners  ?  A  d'Orleans,  with  the 
chief  Patriots  on  the  tip  of  the  Left  ?  It  is  said,  there  runs 
'  a  subterranean  passage '  all  the  way  from  the  Tuileries 
hither.  Who  knows  ?  Paris,  mined  with  quarries  and  cata- 
combs, does  hang  wondrous  over  the  abyss  ;  Paris  was  once 
to  be  blown  up— though  the  powder,  when  we  went  to  look, 
had  got  withdrawn.  A  Tuileries,  sold  to  Austria  and  Coblentz, 
should  liave  no  subterranean  passage.  Out  of  which  might 
not  Coblentz  or  Austria  issue,  some  morning  ;  and,  with  cai> 
non  of  long  range,  ^  foudroyer  '  bethunder  a  patriotic  Saint- 
Antoine  into  smoulder  and  ruin  ? 


THE  DAY  OF  PONIARBS.  390 

So  meditates  the  benighted  soul  of  Saint-Antoine,  as  it  sees 
the  aproned  wortmeu,  in  early  spring,  busy  on  these  towers. 
An  official-speaking  Municipality,  a  Sieur  Motier  with  his 
legions  of  moucJiards,  deserve  no  trust  at  all.  Were  Patriot 
Santerre,  indeed.  Commander  !  But  the  sonorous  Brewer 
commands  only  our  own  Battalion  :  of  such  secrets  he  can 
explain  nothing,  knows  nothing,  perhaps  suspects  much. 
And  so  the  work  goes  on  ;  and  afflicted  benighted  Saint- 
Antoine  hears  rattle  of  hammers,  sees  stones  suspended  in  air. 

Saint-Antoine  prostrated  the  first  great  Bastille  :  will  it 
falter  over  this  comparative  insignificance  of  a  Bastille? 
Friends,  what  if  we  took  pikes,  fii-elocks,  sledgehammers,  and 
helped  ourselves ! — Speedier  is  no  remedy  ;  nor  so  certain. 
On  the  28th  dav  of  February,  Saint-Antoine  turns  out,  as  it 
has  now  often  done  ;  and,  apparently  v.ith  little  superfluous 
tumult,  moves  eastward  to  that  eye-sorrow  of  Yincennes. 
"With  grave  voice  of  authority,  no  need  of  bullying  and  shout- 
ing, Saint-Antoine  signifies  to  the  parties  concerned  there 
that  its  purpose  is.  To  have  this  suspicious  Stronghold  razed 
level  with  the  general  soil  of  the  country.  Remonstrance 
may  be  proffered,  with  zeal  ;  but  it  avails  not.  The  outer 
gate  goes  up,  drawbridges  tumble  ;  iron  window-stancheous, 
smitten  out  with  sledgehammers,  become  iron-crowbars  :  it 
rains  a  rain  of  furniture,  stone-masses,  slates  :  with  chaotic 
clatter  and  rattle.  Demolition  clatters  down.  And  now  hasty 
expresses  msh  through  the  agitated  streets,  to  warn  Lafayette, 
and  the  Municipal  and  Departmental  Authorities  ;  Eumour 
warns  a  National  Assembly,  a  Eoyal  Tuileries,  and  all  men 
who  care  to  hear  it :  That  Saint-Antoine  is  up  ;  that  Yin- 
cennes, and  probably  the  last  remaining  Institution  of  the 
Country  is  coming  down.* 

Quick,  then  !  Let  Lafayette  roll  his  drums  and  fly  east- 
ward ;  for  to  all  Constitutional  Patriots  this  is  again  bad  news. 
And  you,  ye  Friends  of  Royalty,  snatch  your  poniards  of  im- 
proved structure,  made  to  order  ;  your  sw^ord-canes,  secret 
arms,  and  tickets  of  entry ;  quick,  by  backstairs  passages,  rally 
round  the  Son  of  Sixty  Kings.     An  effervescence  probably  got 

*  Deux  Amis  (vi.  11-15).     Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  111-17). 


400  THE  TUILERIES. 

up  by  d'Orleans  and  Company,  for  the  overthrow  of  Throuo 
and  Altar :  it  is  said  her  Majesty  shall  be  put  in  prison,  put 
out  of  the  way  ;  what  then  Avill  his  Majesty  be  ?  Clay  for  the 
Sansculottic  Potter  !  Or  were  it  impossible  to  fly  this  day ;  a 
brave  Noblesse  suddenly  all  rallying  ?  Peril  threatens,  hope 
invites  :  Dukes  de  Villequier,  de  Duras,  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber  give  Tickets  and  admittance;  a  brave  Noblesse  i; 
suddenly  all  rallying.  Now  were  the  time  to  '  fall  sword  in 
hand  on  those  gentry  there,'  could  it  be  done  with  effect. 

The  Hero  of  two  Worlds  is  on  his  white  charger :  blue  Na- 
tionals, horse  and  foot,  hurrying  eastward ;  Santerre,  with  the 
Saint- Antoine  Bxttalion,  is  already  there, — apparently  indis- 
posed to  act.  Heavy-laden  Hero  of  Two  Worlds,  what  tasks 
are  these  !  The  jeerings,  provocating  gambollings  of  that 
Patriot  Suburb,  which  is  all  out  on  the  streets  now,  are  hard 
to  endure  ;  unwashed  Patriots  jeering  in  sulky  sport ;  one  un- 
washed Patriot  '  seizing  the  General  by  the  boot,'  to  unhorse 
him.  Santerre,  ordered  to  fire,  makes  answer  obliquely, 
"  These  are  the  men  that  took  the  Bastille  ;"  and  not  a  trigger 
stirs.  Neither  dare  the  Vincennes  Magistracy  give  warrant  of 
arrestment,  or  the  smallest  countenance  :  wherefore  the  Gen- 
eral '  will  take  it  on  himself  '  to  arrest.  By  promptitude,  by 
cheerful  adroitness,  patience  and  brisk  valour  without  limits, 
the  riot  may  be  again  bloodlessly  appeased. 

Meanwhile,  the  rest  of  Paris,  with  more  or  less  unconcera, 
may  mind  the  rest  of  its  business :  for  what  is  this  but  an 
effervescence,  of  which  there  are  now  so  many?  The  National 
Assembly,  in  one  of  its  stormiest  moods,  is  debating  a  Law 
against  Emigration  ;  Mirabeau  declaiing  aloud,  "  I  swear  be- 
forehand that  I  will  not  obey  it "  Mrabeau  is  often  at  tho 
Tribune  this  day  ;  with  endless  impediments  from  without ; 
with  the  old  unabated  energy  from  within.  What  can  mur- 
murs and  clamours,  from  Left  or  from  Right,  do  to  this  man  ; 
like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremoved  ?  With  clear  thought ;  with 
strong  bass-voice,  though  at  first  low,  uncertain,  he  claims 
audience,  sways  the  storm  of  men  :  anon  the  sound  of  him 
waxes,  softens  ;  he  rises  into  far-sounding  melody  of  strength, 
triumphant,  which  subdues  all  hearts  ;  his  rude  seamed  face, 


tiil:  day  of  poniards.  40i 

desolate,  fire-scathed,  becomes  fire  lit,  and  radiates :  ODce 
ao-ain  men  feel,  in  these  beggarly  ages,  what  is  the  potency 
and  omnipotency  of  man's  word  on  the  souls  of  men.  "  I 
will  triumph  or  be  torn  in  fragments,''  he  was  once  heard  to 
say.  "Silence,"  he  cries  now,  in  strong  word  of  command,  in 
imperial  consciousness  of  strength,  "Silence,  the  thirty  voices, 
Silence  aux  trente  voix  !  " — and  EobespieiTe  and  the  Thirty 
Voices  die  into  mutterings  ;  and  the  Law  is  once  more  as  Mi- 
rabeau  would  have  it. 

How  different,  at  the  same  instant,  is  General  Lafayette's 
street  eloquence  ;  wrangling  -with  sonorous  Brewers,  with  an 
ungrammatical  Saint- Antoine  !  Most  different,  again,  from 
both  is  the  Cafe-de-Valois  eloquence,  and  suppressed  fanfar- 
onade, of  this  multitude  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry  ;  who 
are  now  inundating  the  Corridors  of  the  Tuilenes.  Such 
things  can  go  on  simultaneously  in  one  City.  How  much 
more  in  one  Country  ;  in  one  Planet  with  its  discrepancies, 
every  Day  a  mere  crackling  infinitude  of  discrepancies, — 
Avhich  nevertheless  do  yield  some  coherent  net  product,  though 
an  infinitesimally  small  one  ! 

But  be  this  as  it  maj',  Lafayette  has  saved  Vincennes  ;  and 
is  marching  homewards  with  some  dozen  of  arrested  demoli- 
tionists.  Koyalty  is  not  yet  saved  ; — nor  indeed  sjiecially 
endangered.  But  to  the  King's  Constitutional  Guard,  to  these 
old  Gardes  Franjaises,  or  Centre  Grenadiers,  as  it  chanced  to 
be,  this  affluence  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry  is  becoming 
more  and  more  unintelligible.  Is  his  Majesty  verily  for  Metz, 
then  ;  to  be  canied  off  by  these  men,  on  the  spur  of  the  instant  ? 
That  revolt  of  Saint-Antoine  got  up  by  traitor  Royalists  for  a 
stalking-horse  ?  Keep  a  sharp  outlook,  ye  Centre  Grenadiers 
on  duty  here  :  good  never  came  from  the  '  men  in  black.' 
Nay,  they  have  cloaks,  rcJingofes ;  some  of  them  leather- 
breeches,  boots, — as  if  for  instant  riding!  Or  what  is  this 
that  sticks  visible  from  the  lapelle  of  Chevalier  de  Court.* 
Too  like  the  handle  of  some  cutting  or  stabbing  instrument ! 
He  gHdes  and  goes ;  and  still  the  dudgeon  sticks  from  his  left 
♦  Weber,  ii.  286. 
Vol.  I.— 26 


402  TUE  TUILERIES. 

lapelle.  "  Hold,  Monsieur  !  " — a  Centre  Grenadier  clutches 
him  ;  clutches  the  protrusive  dudgeon,  whisks  it  out  in  the 
face  of  the  world  :  by  Heaven,  a  very  dagger ;  hunting-knife  or 
whatsoever  you  will  call  it ;  fit  to  drink  the  life  of  Patriotism ! 

So  fared  it  with  Chevalier  de  Court,  early  in  the  day  ;  not 
without  noise ;  not  without  commentaries.  And  now  this 
continually  increasing  multitude  at  night-fall?  Have  they 
daggers  too  ?  Alas,  with  them  too,  after  angiy  parleyings, 
there  has  begun  a  groping  and  a  rummaging  ;  all  men  in 
black,  spite  of  their  Tickets  of  Eutiy,  are  clutched  by  the 
collar,  and  groped.  Scandalous  to  think  of  :  for  always,  as 
the  dirk,  sword-cane,  pistol,  or  were  it  but  tailor's  bodkin,  is 
found  on  him,  and  with  loud  scorn  drawn  forth  from  him,  he, 
the  hapless  man  in  black,  is  flung  ail-too  rapidly  down  stairs. 
FluDg  ;  and  ignomiuiously  descends,  head  foremost  ;  acceler- 
ated by  ignominious  shovings  from  sentry  after  sentry  ;  nav, 
as  is  written,  by  smitings,  twitchings, — spurniugs,  a  jMsteriort, 
not  to  be  named.  In  this  accelerated  way,  emerges,  uncer- 
tain which  end  uppermost,  man  after  man  in  black,  through 
all  issues,  into  the  Tuileries  Garden.  Emerges,  alas,  into  the 
arms  of  an  indignant  multitude,  now  gathered  and  gathering 
there,  in  the  hour  of  dusk,  to  see  what  is  toward,  and  whether- 
the  Hereditary  Representative  is  carried  off  or  not.  Hapless 
men  in  black  ;  at  last  convicted  of  poniards  made  to  order  ; 
convicted  'Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard!'  Within  is  as  the 
burning  ship  ;  without  is  as  the  deep  sea.  Within  is  no  help  ; 
his  Majesty,  looking  forth,  one  moment,  from  his  interior 
sanctuaries,  coldly  bids  all  visitors  '  give  uj)  their  weajDOUs  ; ' 
and  shuts  the  door  again.  The  weapons  given  up  form  a 
heap  :  the  convicted  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  keep  descend- 
ing pellmell,  with  impetuous  velocity  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of 
all  staircases,  the  mixed  multitude  receives  them,  hustles, 
buffets,  chases  and  disperses  them.* 

Such  sight  meets  Lafayette,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  as 
he  returns,  successful  Avith  difficulty   at  Vincennes  :  Sanscu- 
lotte Scylla  hardly  weathered,  here  is  Aristoci-at  Charybdis 
gurghng  under  his  lee  !     The  patient  Hero  of  two  Worlds 
*  Kiat  Pari.  ix.  139-48. 


THE -DAY   OF  rONIARDS.  403 

almost  loses  temper.  He  accelerates,  does  not  retard,  the 
flviug  Chevaliers  ;  delivers,  indeed,  this  or  the  other  hunted 
Loyalist  of  quality,  but  rates  him  in  Litter  words,  such  as  the 
hour  suggested  ;  such  as  no  saloon  could  pardon.  Hero  ill- 
bested  ;  hanging,  so  to  speak,  in  mid  air ;  hateful  to  Eich 
divinities  above  ;  hateful  to  Indigent  mortals  below  !  Duke 
de  Villequier,  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber,  gets  sucli  contu- 
melious rating,  in  presence  of  all  people  there,  that  he  may 
see  good  first  to  exculpate  himself  in  the  Newspapers  ;  then, 
that  not  prospering,  to  retire  over  the  Frontiers,  and  begin 
plotting  at  Brussels.*  His  Apartment  will  stand  vacant ; 
usef  uUer,  as  we  may  find,  than  when  it  stood  occupied. 

So  fly  the  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  :  hunted  of  Patriotic 
men,  shamefully  in  the  thickening  dusk.  A  dim  miserable 
business  ;  born  of  darkness  ;  dying  away  there  in  the  thick- 
ening dusk  and  dimness.  In  the  midst  of  which,  however, 
let  the  reader  discern  clearly  one  figure  running  for  its  life  : 
Crispin-Cataline  d'Espremenil, — for  the  last  time,  or  the  last 
but  one.  It  is  not  yet  three  years  since  these  same  Centre 
Grenadiers,  Gardes  Fran^aises  then,  marched  him  towards 
the  Calypso  Isles,  in  the  gray  of  the  May  morning  ;  and  he 
and  they  have  got  thus  far.  Buffeted,  beaten  down,  delivered 
by  popular  Potion,  he  might  well  answer  bitterly:  "And  I 
too,  Monsieur,  have  been  carried  on  the  People's  shoulders."! 
A  fact  which  popular  Petion,  if  he  like,  can  meditate. 

But  happily,  one  way  and  another,  the  speedy  night  covers 
up  this  ignominious  Day  of  Poniards  ;  and  the  ChevaUers 
escape,  though  maltreated,  with  torn  coat-skirts  and  heavy 
hearts,  to  their  respective  dwelling-houses.  Riot  twofold  is 
quelled  ;  and  little  blood  shed,  if  it  be  not  insignificant  blood 
from  the  nose  :  Vincennes  stands  undemolished,  repai-able ;  and 
the  Hereditary  Representative  has  not  been  stolen,  nor  the 
Queen  smuggled  into  Prison.  A  day  long  remembered :  com- 
mented on  with  loud  hahas  and  deep  grumblings  ;  with  bitter 
scornfalness  of  triumph,  bitter  rancour  of  defeat.  Eoyalism, 
as  usual,  imputes  it  to  d'Orleans  and  the  Anarchists,  intent 
on  insulting  Majesty  :  Patriotism,  as  usual,  to  Royalists,  and 
*  Moutgaillard,  ii.  28G.  f  See  Mercier,  ii.  40,  202. 


4^'i  THE  TUILERIES. 

even  Constitutionalists,  intent  on  stealing  Majesty  to  Metz : 
we,  also  as  usual,  to  Preternatural  Suspicion,  and  Phcebua 
Apollo  having  made  himself  like  the  Night. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  reader  seen,  in  an  unexpected  arena, 
on  this  last  day  of  February,  1791,  the  Three  long-contending 
elements  of  French  Society,  dashed  forth  into  singular  comico- 
tragical  collision  ;  acting  and  reacting  openly  to  the  eye.  Con- 
stitutionalism, at  once  queUiug  Sansculottic  riot  at  Vincennes, 
and  Royalist  treachery  in  the  Tuileries,  is  great,  this  day,  and 
prevails.  As  for  poor  Royalism,  tossed  to  and  fro  in  that 
manner,  its  daggers  all  left  in  a  heap,  what  can  one  think  of 
it ?  Every  dog,  the  Adage  says,  has  its  day  :  has  it;  has  had 
it ;  or  will  have  it.  For  the  present,  the  day  is  Lafayette's 
and  the  Constitution's.  Nevertheless,  Hunger  and  Jacobin- 
ism, fast  gi-owing  fanatical,  still  work  ;  their  day,  were  they 
once  fanatical,  will  come.  Hitherto,  in  all  tempests,  Lafayette, 
like  some  divine  Sea-ruler,  raises  his  serene  head :  the  upper 
^olus  blasts  fly  back  to  theii-  caves,  like  foolish  unbidden 
winds  :  the  under  sea-billows  they  had  vexed  into  froth  allay 
themselves.  But  if,  as  we  often  write,  the  su6marine  Titanic 
Fire-powers  came  into  play,  the  Ocean  bed  from  beneath  being 
hurst  ?  If  they  hurled  Poseidon  Lafayette  and  his  Constitu- 
tion out  of  SjDace  ;  and,  in  the  Titanic  melly,  sea  were  mixed 
with  sky? 

CHAPTER  VL 

MIRABEAU. 

.  The  spirit  of  France  waxes  ever  more  acrid,  fever-sick  :  to- 
wards the  final  outburst  of  dissolution  and  dehrium.  Suspi- 
cion rules  all  minds :  contending  pariies  cannot  now  com- 
mingle ;  stand  separated  sheer  asunder,  e^'eing  one  another, 
in  most  aguish  mood,  of  cold  teiTor  or  hot  rage.  Counter- 
Revolution,  D.iys  of  Poniards,  Castries  Duels  ;  Flight  of  Mes- 
dames,  of  Monsieur  and  Royalty !  Journalism  shrills  ever 
louder  its  cry  of  alarm.  The  sleepless  Dionysius's  Ear  of  the 
Forty-eight  S2ctious,  how  feverishly  quick  has  it  grown  ;  con- 


MIRABEAU.  405 

vulsing  with  strange  pangs  the  whole  sick  Body,  as  in  such 
sleeplessness  and  sickness,  the  ear  will  do  ! 

Since  Royalists  get  Poniards  made  to  order,  and  a  Sieul 
Motier  is  no  better  than  he  should  be,  shall  not  Patriotism 
too,  even  of  the  indigent  sort,  have  Pikes,  secondhand  Fire- 
locks, in  readiness  for  theAvorst?  The  anvils  ring,  during 
this  March  month,  with  hammering  of  Pikes.  A  Constitu- 
tional Municipality  promulgated  its  Placard,  that  no  citizen 
except  the  '  active  '  or  cash-citizen  was  entitled  to  have  arms  ; 
but  there  rose,  instantly  i*esponsive,  such  a  tempest  of  aston- 
ishment from  Club  and  Section,  that  the  Constitutional  Pla- 
card, almost  next  morning,  had  to  cover  itself  up,  and  die 
away  into  inanity,  in  a  second  improved  edition.*  So  the 
hammering  continues  ;  as  all  that  it  betokens  does. 

Mark,  again,  how  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left  is  mounting  in 
favour,  if  not  in  its  own  National  Hall,  yet  with  the  Nation, 
especially  with  Paris.  For  in  such  universal  panic  of  doubt, 
the  opinion  that  is  sure  of  itself,  as  the  meagrest  opinion  may 
the  soonest  be,  is  the  one  to  which  all  men  will  rally.  Great 
is  Belief,  were  it  never  so  meagre  ;  and  leads  captive  the 
doubting  heart.  Incorruptible  Robespierre  has  been  elected 
Public  Accuser  in  our  new  Courts  of  Judicature  ;  virtuous 
Petion,  it  is  thought,  may  rise  to  be  Mayor.  Cordelier  Dan- 
ton,  called  also  by  triumphant  majorities,  sits  at  the  Depart- 
mental Council-table,  colleague  there  of  Mirabeau.  Of  incor- 
ruptible Robespierre,  it  was  long  ago  predicted  that  he  might 
go  far,  mean  meagre  mortal  though  he  was  ;  for  Doubt  dwelt 
not  in  him. 

Under  which  circumstances  ought  not  Royalty  likewise  to 
cease  doubting,  and  begin  deciding  and  acting  ?  Royalty  has 
always  that  sure  trump-card  in  its  hand  :  Flight  out  of  Paris. 
Which  sure  trump-card  Royalty,  as  we  see,  keeps  ever  and 
anon  clutching  at,  grasping  ;  and  swashes  it  forth  tentatively  ; 
yet  never  tables  it,  still  puts  it  back  again.  Play  it,  0  Roy- 
alty !  If  there  be  a  chance  left,  this  seems  it,  and  verily  the 
last  chance  ;  and  now  every  hour  is  rendering  this  a  doubt- 
fuller.  Alas,  one  would  so  fain  both  fly  and  not  fly  ;  play 
*  Ordounauce  du  17  Mars,  1791  (Hist.  Pari.  ix.  257). 


4<H)  THE   Till.nUIES. 

one's  card,  and  have  it  to  play.  Royalty,  in  all  Imrnan  likeli- 
hood, will  not  play  its  trump-card  till  the  honours,  one  after 
one,  be  mainly  lost ;  and  such  trumping  of  it  prove  to  be  the 
sudden  finish  of  the  game  ! 


Here,  accordingly,  a  question  always  arises  ;  of  the  pro- 
phetic sort ;  which  cannot  now  be  answered.  Supposa 
Mirabeau,  with  whom  Royalty  takes  deep  counsel,  as  with  a 
Prime  jMinister  that  cannot  yet  legally  avow  himself  as  such, 
had  got  his  arrangements  compleled  ?  Ai'rangements  he  has  ; 
far-stretching  plans  that  dawn  fitfully  on  us,  by  fragments,  in 
the  confused  darkness.  Thirty  Departments  ready  to  sign 
loyal  Addresses,  of  prescribed  tenor  :  King  carried  out  of 
Paris,  but  only  to  Compiegne  and  Rouen,  hardly  to  Metz, 
siuce,  once  for  all,  no  Emigrant  rabble  shall  take  the  lead  in 
it :  National  Assembly  consenting,  by  dint  of  loyal  Addresses, 
by  management,  by  force  of  Bouille,  to  hear  reason,  and  fol- 
low thither  !  *  AVas  it  so,  on  these  terms,  that  Jacobinism 
and  Mu-abeau  were  then  to  gi'apple,  in  their  Hercules-and- 
Typhon  duel ;  Death  ine\itable  for  the  one  or  the  other  ? 
The  duel  itself  is  determined  on,  and  sui'e  :  but  on  what 
terms  ;  much  more,  with  what  issue,  we  in  vain  guess.  It  is 
vague  darkness  all  :  unknown  what  is  to  be  ;  unknown  even 
what  has  ali'eady  been.  The  giant  Mirabeau  walks  in  dark- 
ness, as  we  said :  conqoanionless,  on  wild  ways :  what  his 
thoughts  during  these  months  were,  no  record  of  Biographer, 
nor  vague  FUh  Adoptif,  will  now  ever  disclose. 

To  us,  endeavouring  to  cast  his  horoscope,  it  of  coui-se 
remains  doubly  vague.  There  is  one  Herculean  Man  ;  in 
internecine  duel  with  him,  there  is  Monster  after  Monster. 
Emigrant  Noblesse  return,  sword  on  thigh,  vaunting  of  their 
Loyalty  never  sullied  ;  descending  from  the  air,  like  Harpy- 
swarms  with  ferocity,  with  obscene  greed.  Earthward  there 
is  the  Typhon  of  Anarchy,  Political,  Religious  ;  sprawling 
hundred-headed,  say  with  Twenty-five  million  heads  j  wide  as 
the  area  of  France  ;  fierce  as  Frenzy  ;  strong  in  very  Hunger. 

*  See  Fils  Adoptit  (vii.  1.  6);  Dumoiit  (c.  11, 12,  14). 


MIRABEA  U.  407 

With  these  shall  the  Sei-pent-queller  do  battle  continually, 
and  expect  no  rest. 

As  for  the  King,  he  as  usual  will  go  wavering  chameleon- 
like,  changing  colour  and  purpose  with  the  colour  of  his 
environment ; — good  for  no  Kingly  use.  On  one  royal  jDer- 
son,  on  the  Queen  only,  can  Mirabeau  perhaps  place  depend- 
ence. It  is  possible,  the  greatness  of  this  man,  not  unskilled 
too  in  blandishments,  courtiership,  and  gracefid  adi'oitness, 
might,  with  most  legitimate  sorceiy,  fascinate  the  volatile 
Queen,  and  fix  her  to  him.  She  has  courage  for  aU  noble 
daring  ;  an  eye  and  a  heart :  the  soul  of  Theresa's  Daughter. 
'  Faut-il-donc,  Is  it  fated  then,'  she  passionately  writes  to  her 
Brother,  '  that  I,  with  the  blood  I  am  come  of,  with  the 
'  sentiments  I  have,  must  live  and  die  among  such  mortals  ? '  * 
Alas,  poor  Princess,  Yes.  '  She  is  the  only  man,'  as  Mira- 
beau observes,  '  whom  his  majesty  has  about  him.'  Of  one 
other  man  Mirabeau  is  still  surer  :  of  himself.  There  lie  hi3 
resources  ;  sufiicient  or  insufficient. 

Dim  and  great  to  the  e^-e  of  Prophecy  looks  that  future. 
A  perpetual  hfe  and  death  battle  ;  confusion  fi'om  above  and 
from  below ; — mere  cou fused  darkness  for  us  ;  with  here  and 
there  some  streak  of  faint  lurid  light.  We  see  a  King  per- 
haps laid  aside  ;  not  tonsured,  tonsuring  is  out  of  fashion 
now  ;  but  say,  sent  away  any  whither,  with  handsome  annual 
allowance,  and  stock  of  smith-tools.  We  see  a  Queen  and 
Dauphin,  Eegent  and  Minor  ;  a  Queen  '  mounted  on  horse- 
back,' in  the  din  of  battles,  with  Moriamur  i')ro  rege  nostra  ! 
'  Such  a  day,'  ]Mirabeau  Avrites,  '  may  come.' 

Din  of  battles,  wars  more  than  civil,  confusion  from  r.bove 
and  from  below  :  in  such  environment  the  eye  of  Propliecy 
sees  Comte  de  Mirabeau,  like  some  Cardinal  de  Eetz,  storm- 
fully  maintain  himself  ;  with  head  all-devising,  heart  all- 
daring,  if  not  victorious,  yet  unvanquished,  while  life  is  left 
him.  The  specialities  and  issues  of  it  no  eye  of  Prophecy  can 
guess  at :  it  is  clouds,  we  repeat,  and  tempestuous  night ; 
and  in  the  middle  of  it,  now  visible,  far  darting,  now  labour- 
ing in  eclipse,  is  Mirabeau,  indomitably  struggling  to  be 
*  Fils  Adopti",  tihi  auprd. 


408  THE  TUILERIES. 

Cloutl-Compeller !  One  can  say  that,  had  Mirabeau  Hved,  the 
History  of  France  and  of  the  World  had  been  different.  Fui'- 
ther,  that  the  man  would  have  needed,  as  few  men  ever  did, 
the  whole  compass  of  that  same  'Ai't  of  Daring,  Art  d'Oser,' 
which  he  so  prized  ;  and  likewise  that  he,  above  all  men  then 
h\dng,  would  have  practised  ami  manifested  it.  Finally,  that 
some  substantiality,  and  no  empty  simulacrum  of  a  formula, 
would  have  been  the  result  realised  by  him  :  a  result  you 
could  have  loved,  a  result  you  could  have  hated  ;  by  no  like- 
lihood, a  result  you  could  only  have  rejected  with  closed  lips, 
and  swept  into  quick  forgetfulness  forever.  Had  IVIirabeau 
lived  one  other  year  ! 


CHAPTEK  Vn. 

DEATH      OF      MIRABEAU. 


But  Mirabeau  could  not  live  another  year,  any  more  than 
he  could  live  another  thousand  years.  Men's  years  are  num- 
bered, and  the  tale  of  Mirabeau's  was  now  complete.  Impor- 
tant or  unimportant ;  to  be  mentioned  in  World-Histoiy  for 
some  centuries,  or  not  to  be  mentioned  there  bej'ond  a  day 
or  two, — it  matters  not  to  peremptory  Fate.  From  amid 
the  press  of  ruddy,  busy  Life,  the  Pale  Messenger  beck- 
ons silently  ;  wide-spreading  interests,  projects,  salvation  of 
French  Monarchies,  what  thing  soever  man  has  on  hand,  he 
must  suddenly  quit  it  all,  and  go.  Wert  thou  saving  French 
Monarchies  ;  wcrt  thou  blacking  shoes  on  the  Pont  Neuf ! 
The  most  imjDOi'tant  of  men  cannot  stay  ;  did  the  World's 
History  depend  on  an  hour,  that  hour  is  not  to  be  given. 
Whereby,  indeed,  it  comes  that  these  same  looidd-have-beens 
are  mostly  a  vanity  ;  and  the  World's  History  could  never  in 
the  least  be  what  it  would,  or  might,  or  should,  by  any  man- 
ner of  potentiality,  but  simply  and  altogether  what  it  is. 

The  fierce  wear  and  tear  of  such  an  existence  has  wasted 
out  the  giant  oaken  strength  of  Mirabeau.  A  fret  and  fever 
that  keeps  heart  and  brain  on  fire  :  excess  of  effort,  of  excite- 
ment ;  excess  of  all  kinds  ;  labour  incessant,  almost  beyond 


DEATH  OF  MIR  ABE AU.  400 

credibility  !  '  If  I  had  not  lived  witli  him,'  says  Dumont,  '  I 
'  never  should  have  known  what  a  man  can  make  of  one  day  ; 
'  what  things  may  be  placed  within  the  interval  of  twelve 
*  hours.  A  day  for  this  man  was  more  than  a  week  or  a 
'  month  is  for  others  :  the  mass  of  things  he  guided  on  to- 
'  gether  was  prodigious  ;  from  the  scheming  to  the  executing, 
'  not  a  moment  lost.' — "Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  his  Seci'e- 
tary  to  him  once,  "  what  you  require  is  impossible."  "  Im- 
"  possible  !  " — answered  he,  starting  from  his  chair,  "  Ne  me 
"  dites  jamais  cehttede  mot,  Never  name  to  me  that  block- 
"  head  of  a  word."*  And  then  the  social  repasts  ;  the  dinner 
which  he  gives  as  Commandant  of  National  Guards,  which 
'  cost  five  hundred  pounds  ; '  alas,  and  '  the  Syrens  of  the 
Opera  ; '  and  all  the  ginger  that  is  hot  in  the  mouth  ; — down 
what  a  course  is  this  man  hurled  !  Cannot  Mu-abeau  stop  ; 
cannot  he  fl}',  and  save  himself  ahve  ?  No  !  There  is  a  Nes- 
sus'  Shirt  on  this  Hercules  ;  he  must  storm  and  burn  there, 
without  rest,  till  he  be  consumed.  Human  strength,  never 
so  Herculean,  has  its  measure.  Herald  shadows  flit  pale 
across  the  fire-bx-ain  of  Mirabeau  ;  heralds  of  the  pale  repose. 
While  he  tosses  and  storms,  straining  eveiy  nei-ve,  in  that  sea 
of  ambition  and  confusion,  there  comes,  sombre  and  still,  a 
monition  that  for  him  the  issue  of  it  wiU  be  swift  death. 

In  January  last,  you  might  see  him  as  President  of  the  As- 
sembly ;    'his   neck  wrapt   in  linen   cloths,   at   the   evening 
session  : '  there  was  sick  heat  •  of  the  blood,  alternate  dark- 
ening and  flashing  in  the  eyesight ;  he  had  to  apply  leeches, 
after  the  morniag  labour,  and   preside  bandaged.      '  At  part- 
ing he  embraced  me,'  says  Dumont,  '  with  an  emotion  I  had 
never  seen  in  him  :  "  I  am  dj-ing,  my  friend  ;  dying  as  by 
"  slow  fire  ;  we  shall  perhaps  not  meet  again.     When  I  am 
"gone,  they  will  know  what  the  value  of  me  was.     The 
"miseries  I  have  held  back  will  burst  from  all  sides  on 
"  France."  '  f     Sickness  gives  louder  warning  ;  but  cannot 
be   hstened   to.     On    the   27th   day   of    March,    proceeding 
towards  the  Assembly,  he  had  to  seek  rest  and  help  in  Friend 
de  Lamarck's,  by  the  road ;  and  lay  there,  for  an  hour,  half- 
*  Diimont,  p.  311.  f  Dumont,  p.  267. 


410  THE  TUILEIilES. 

fainting,  stretched  on  a  sofa.  To  the  Assembly  nevcrtheles3 
he  went,  as  if  in  spite  of  Destiny  itself  ;  spoke,  loud  and 
eager,  five  several  times  ;  then  quitted  the  Tribune — forever. 
He  steps  out,  utterly  exhausted,  into  the  Tuileries  Gardens  ; 
many  peoj^le  press  round  him,  as  usual,  with  apjDlications. 
memorials  ;  he  says  to  the  Friend  who  was  with  him  :  "  Take 
me  out  of  this  !  " 

And  so,  on  the  last  day  of  March,  1791,  endless  anxious 
multitudes  beset  the  Kue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin  ;  incessantly 
inquiring ;  within  doors  there,  in  that  House  numbered  in 
our  time,  42,  the  overwearied  giant  has  fallen  down,  to  die.* 
Crowds  of  all  parties  and  kinds  ;  of  all  ranks,  from  the  King 
to  the  meanest  man  !  The  King  sends  publicly  twice  a-day 
to  inquire  ;  privately  besides :  from  the  world  at  large  there 
is  no  end  of  inquiring.  '  A  written  bulletin  is  handed  out 
every  three  hours,'  is  copied  and  circulated  ;  in  the  end,  iL  is 
printed.  The  People  spontaneously  keep  silence  ;  no  carriage 
shall  enter  with  its  noise  :  there  is  crowding  pressure  ;  but 
the  Sister  of  Mirabeau  is  reverently  recognised,  and  has  free 
way  made  for  her.  The  People  stand  mute,  heart-stricken  ; 
to  all  it  seems  as  if  a  great  calamity  were  nigh  :  as  if  the  last 
man  of  France,  who  could  have  swayed  these  coming  troubles, 
lay  there  at  hand-grips  with  the  unearthly  Power. 

The  silence  of  a  whole  People,  the  wakeful  toil  of  Cabanis, 
Friend  and  Physician,  skills  not :  on  Saturday,  the  second 
day  of  April,  Mirabeau  feels  that  the  last  of  the  Days  has  risen 
for  him  :  that  on  this  day,  he  has  to  dejDart  and  be  no  more. 
His  death  is  Titanic,  as  his  life  has  been.  Lit  up,  for  the  last 
time,  in  the  glare  of  coming  dissolution,  the  mind  of  the  man 
is  all  glowing  and  burning  ;  utters  itself  in  sayings  such  as 
men  long  remember.  He  longs  to  live,  yet  acquiesces  in 
death,  argues  not  with  the  inexorable.  His  speech  is  wild 
and  wondrous  :  unearthly  Phantasms  dancing  now  their  torch- 
dance  round  his  soial ;  the  soul  itself  looking  out,  fire-radiant, 
motionless,  girt  together  for  that  great  hour  !  At  times  comes 
abeam  of  light  from  him  on  the  world  he  is  quitting.  "I 
"  caiTy  in  my  heart  the  death-dirge  of  the  French  Monarchy  ; 
*  Fits  Adoptif,  viii.  420-79. 


DEATH   OF  MIIIABEAU.  4H 

*'tlie  dead  remains  of  it  will  now  be  the  spoil  of  the  factious." 
Or  again,  when  he  heard  the  cannon  fire,  what  is  character- 
istic too  :  "  Have  Ave  the  Achilles'  Funeral  already  ?  "  So 
likewise,  while  some  friend  is  supporting  him  :  "Yes,  sup- 
port that  head  ;  would  I  could  bequeath  it  thee  ! "  For  the 
man  dies  as  he  has  lived  ;  self-conscious,  conscious  of  a  world 
looking  on.  He  gazes  forth  on  the  young  Spring,  which  for 
him  will  never  be  Summer.  The  Sun  has  risen  ;  he  says  : 
" Si  ce  nest  jjcis  Id  iJieu,  vest  da  vioins  son  cousin  germain."* 
— Death  has  mastered  the  outworks  ;  power  of  speech  is  gone  : 
the  citadel  of  the  heart  still  holding  out :  the  moribund  giant, 
passionately,  by  sign,  demands  paper  and  pen  :  writes  his 
passionate  demand  for  opium,  to  end  these  agonies.  The  sor- 
rowful Doctor  shakes  his  head  :  Dormir  '  To  sleej),'  writes  the 
other,  passionateh'  pointing  at  it !  So  dies  a  gigantic  Heathen 
and  Titan  ;  stumbling  blindly,  undismayed,  down  to  his  rest. 
At  half  past  eight  in  the  morning.  Doctor  Petit,  standing  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  says,  "7Z  ne  aouffre  plus."  His  suffering 
and  his  working  are  now  ended. 

Even  so,  ye  silent  Patriot  multitudes,  all  ye  men  of  France  ; 
this  man  is  rapt  away  from  you.  He  has  fallen  suddenly, 
without  bending  till  he  broke  ;  as  a  tower  falls,  smitten  by 
sudden  lightning.  His  w^ord  ye  shall  hear  no  more,  his  guid- 
ance follow  no  more. — The  multitudes  dej)art,  heartstruck  ; 
spread  the  sad  tidings.  How  touching  is  the  loyalty  of  men 
to  their  Sovereign  Man !  All  theatres,  j)ublic  amusements, 
close  ;  no  joyful  meeting  can  be  held  in  these  nights,  joy  is 
not  for  them  :  the  People  break  in  upon  private  dancing- 
parties,  and  sullenly  command  that  they  cease.  Of  such 
dancing-parties  appai-ently  but  two  came  to  light ;  and  these 
also  have  gone  out.  The  gloom  is  universal  :  never  in  this 
City  was  such  sorrow  for  one  death  ;  never  since  that  old 
night  when  Louis  XII.  depai-ted,  '  and  the  Crieurs  des  Corps 
'  went  sounding  their  bells,  and  crying  along  the  streets :  Le 
'bonroi  Louis, ptre  dupeuple,  est  mort,  The  good  King  Louis, 

*  Fils  Adoptif,  viii.  450. — Journal  de  la  maladie  et  de  b  mort  de  Mi' 
tabean ;  par  P.  J.  G-.     Cabanis  (Paris,  1803). 


412  THE  TUILEUIES. 

'  Father  of  the  People,  is  dead ! '  *  Iviug  Mirabeau  is  now  the 
lost  King  ;  and  one  may  say  with  little  exaggeration,  all  the 
People  mom-n  for  him. 

For  three  days  there  is  low  wide  moan  ;  weeping  in  the 
National  Assembly  itself.  The  streets  are  all  mournful ;  ora- 
tors mounted  on  the  homes,  with  large  silent  audience,  preach- 
ing the  funeral  sermon  of  the  dead.  Let  no  coachman  whip 
fast,  distractively  with  his  rolling  wheels,  or  almost  at  all, 
through  these  groups  !  His  traces  may  be  cut ;  himself  and 
his  fare,  as  incurable  Aiistocrats,  hurled  sulkily  into  the  ken- 
nels. The  bourne-stone  orators  speak  as  it  is  given  them  ;  the 
Sansculottic  People,  with  its  rude  soul,  listens  eager, — as  men 
will  to  any  Sermon,  or  Sermo,  when  it  is  a  spoken  Word  mean- 
ing a  Thing,  and  not  a  Babblement  meaning  No-thing.  In  the 
Restaurateur's  of  the  Palais  Royal,  the  waiter  remarks,  "  Fine 
weather.  Monsieur  :" — "Yes,  my  friend,"  answers  the  ancient 
Man  of  Letters,  "very  fine;  but  Mirabeau  is  dead."  Hoarse 
rhythmic  threnodies  come  also  from  the  throats  of  baUadsiug- 
ers  ;  are  sold  on  graj'-white  paper  at  a  sou  eacli.f  But  of 
Portraits,  engraved,  painted,  hewn,  and  Avritten  ;  of  Eulogies, 
Reminiscences,  Biographies,  nay  Vaudevilles,  Dramas  and 
Melodramas,  in  all  Provinces  of  France,  there  will,  through 
these  coming  months,  be  the  due  immeasurable  crop  ;  thick 
as  the  leaves  of  Spring.  Nor,  that  a  tincture  of  burlesque 
might  be  in  it,  is  Gobel's  Episcopal  JIandement  wanting  ; 
goose  Goble,  Avho  has  just  been  made  Constitutional  Bishop 
of  Paris.  A  Mandement  wherein  Ca-ira  alternates  very 
strangely  with  Nomine  Domini ;  and  you  are,  with  a  grave 
countenance,  invited  to  '  rejoice  at  possessing  in  the  midst  of 
'  you  a  body  of  Prelates  created  by  Mirabeau,  zealous  follow- 
'ersof  his  doctrine,  faithful  imitators  of  his  virtues. 'J  So 
speaks,  and  cackles  manifold,  the  Sorrow  of  France  ;  wailing 
articulately,  inarticulately,  as  it  can,  that  a  Sovereign  man  is 
snatched  away.     In  the   National  Assembly,  when    difficult 

*  Hcnault :   Abrege  Chronologique,  p.  429. 

f  Fils  Adoptif  (viii.  1.  10).     Newspapers  and  Excerpts  (in  Hist.  Pari 
ix   ,300-402). 

X  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  405. 


DEATH  OF  MIR  ABE AU.  413 

questions  are  astir,  all  eyes  will  '  turu  mechanically  to  the 
place  where  Mirabeau  sat,' — and  Mirabeau  is  absent  now. 

On  the  third  evening  of  the  lamentation,  the  fourth  of  April, 
there  is  solemn  Public  Funeral ;  such  as  deceased  mortal  sel- 
dom had.  Procession  of  a  league  in  length  ;  of  mourners 
reckoned  loosely  at  a  hundred  thousand.  All  roofs  are 
thronged  with  onlookers,  aU  windows,  lamp-irons,  branches 
of  trees.  '  Sadness  is  painted  on  every  countenance  ;  many 
persons  weep.'  There  is  double  hedge  of  National  Guards  ; 
there  is  National  Assembly  in  a  body  ;  Jacobin  Society,  and 
Societies  ;  King's  Ministers,  Municipals,  and  all  Notabilities, 
Patriot  or  Aristocrat.  BouiUe  is  noticeable  there,  '  with  his 
hat  on  ; '  say,  hat  drawn  over  his  brow,  hiding  many  thoughts  ! 
Slow- wending,  in  religious  silence,  the  Procession  of  a  league 
in  length,  under  the  level  sun-rays,  for  it  is  five  o'clock,  moves 
and  marches  :  with  its  sable  plumes  ;  itself  is  a  religious  si- 
lence ;  but,  by  fits  with  the  mufiied  roll  of  drums,  by  fits  with 
some  long-drawn  wail  of  music,  and  strange  new  clangour  of 
trombones,  and  metallic  dirge-voice  ;  amid  the  infinite  hum 
of  men.  In  the  Church  of  Saiut-Eustache,  there  is  funeral 
oration  by  Cerutti ;  and  discharge  of  fire-arms,  which  '  brings 
down  pieces  of  the  plaster.'  Thence,  forward  again  to  the 
Church  of  Sainte-Genevieve  ;  which  has  been  consecrated,  by 
supreme  decree,  on  the  spur  of  this  time,  into  a  pantheon  for 
the  Great  Men  of  the  Fatherland,  Aux  Grands  Hommes  la 
Patrie  rcconnaissante.  Hardly  at  midnight  is  the  business 
done  ;  and  Mirabeau  left  in  his  dark  dwelling  ;  first  tenant  of 
that  Fatherland's  Pantheon. 

Tenant,  alas,  who  inhabits  but  at  will,  and  shall  be  cast  out. 
For,  in  these  days  of  convulsion  and  disjection,  not  even  the 
dust  of  the  dead  is  j)ermitted  to  rest.  Voltaire's  bones  are, 
by  and  by,  to  be  carried  from  their  stolen  grave  in  the  Abbey 
of  Scellieres,  to  an  eager  stealing  grave  in  Paris,  his  birth-city  : 
all  mortals  processioning  and  perorating  there  ;  cars  drawn 
by  eight  white  horses,  goadsters  in  classical  costume,  with  fil- 
lets and  wheat-ears  enough  ; — though  the  weather  is  of  the 
wettest.*  Evangelist  Jean  Jacques,  too,  as  is  most  pi'oper. 
*  Moniteiar,  du  13  Juille,  1791. 


414:  THE  TUILERIEL 

must  be  dug  up  from  Ermenonville,  and  jirocessioned,  with 
pomp,  with  sensibility,  to  the  Pantheon  of  the  Fatherland/'^ 
He  and  others  :  while  again  Mirabeau,  we  say,  is  cast  forth 
from  it,  happily  iucajDable  of  being  ?-q3laced  ;  and  rests  no^Y, 
irrecognisable,  reburied  hastily  at  dead  of  night,  '  in  the  cen- 
•tral  part  of  the  Churchyard.  Sainte-Catherine,  in  the  Suburb 
*  Saint-Marceau,'  to  be  disturbed  no  further. 

So  blazes  out,  farseen,  a  ]Man's  Life,  and  becomes  ashes  and 
a  caput  mortuum,  in  this  World-Pyre,  which  we  name  Frencb 
Revolution  :  not  the  fii-st  that  consumed  itself  there  ;  nor,  by 
thousands  and  many  millions,  the  last !  A  man  who  '  had 
swallowed  all  formulas  : '  who,  in  these  strange  times  and 
circumstances,  felt  called  to  live  Titanically,  and  also  to  die 
so.  As  he,  for  his  part,  had  swallowed  all  formulas,  what 
Formula  is  there  never  so  comprehensive,  that  wiU  express 
truly  the  ^jZus  and  the  minus  of  him,  give  us  the  accurate  net- 
result  of  him  ?  There  is  hitherto  none  such.  Moralities  not 
a  few  must  shriek  condemnatory  over  this  Mirabeau  ;  the 
Morality  by  which  he  could  be  judged  has  not  yet  got  uttered 
iu  the  speech  of  men.  We  will  say  this  of  him,  again  :  That 
he  is  a  Reality,  and  no  Simulacrum  ;  a  living  son  of  Nature, 
our  general  Mother  ;  not  a  hollow  Ai'tifice,  and  mechanism 
of  Conventionalities,  son  of  nothing,  brother  to  nothing.  In 
which  little  word,  let  the  earnest  man,  walking  sorrowful  in  a 
world  mostly  of  '  Stuflfed  Clothes-suits,'  that  chatter  and  gria 
meaningless  on  him,  quite  ghastly  to  the  earnest  soul, — think 
what  significance  there  is  ! 

Of  men  who,  in  such  sense,  are  alive,  and  see  with  eyes,  the 
number  is  now  not  great :  it  may  be  well,  if  in  this  huge  French 
Revolution  itself,  with  its  all-developing  fury,  we  find  some 
Three.  Mortals  driven  rabid  we  find  ;  sputtering  the  acridest 
logic  ;  baring  their  breast  to  the  battle-hail,  their  neck  to  the 
guillotine  : — of  whom  it  is  so  painful  to  say  that  they  too  are 
still,  iu  good  part,  manufactured  Formalities,  not  Facts,  but 
Her.r.says ! 

Honour  to  the  strong  man,  in  these  ages,  who  has  shaken 
himself  loose  of  shams,  and  j^-  something.     For  in  the  way  oi 

*  Woiiiteur,  du  18  Septembre,  1794.     &'e  also  du  30  Aolt,  &c.,1791. 


DEATH  OF  ^HRABEAU.  415 

being  icorthy,  the  first  condition  surely  is  that  one  6 '.  Lst 
C-int  cease,  at  all  risks  and  at  all  costs  :  till  Cant  cease,  nothing 
else  can  begin.  Of  human  Criminals,  in  these  centuries,  writes 
the  Moralist,  I  find  but  one  unforgivable  :  the  Quack.  '  Hate- 
ful to  God,'  as  divine  Dante  sings,  '  and  to  the  Enemies  of  God.' 

'  ^-1  Dm  spiacents  ed  «'  neiuici  i>ui  !  ' 

But  whoever  will,  with  sympathy,  which  is  the  first  essential 
towards  insight,  look  at  this  questionable  Mirabeau,  may  find 
that  there  lay  verily  in  him,  as  the  basis  of  all,  a  Sincerity,  a 
great  free  Earnestness  ;  nay,  call  it  Honesty,  for  the  man  did 
before  all  things  see,  with  that  clear  flashing  vision,  into  what 
was,  into  what  existed  as  fact  ;  and  did,  with  his  wild  heart, 
follow  that  and  no  other.  Whereby  on  what  ways  soever  ho 
travels  and  straggles,  often  enough  falling,  he  is  still  a  brother 
man.  Hate  him  not ;  thou  canst  not  hate  him  !  Shining 
through  such  soil  and  tarnish,  and  now  victorious  efi'ulgent, 
and  oftenest  struggling  eclipsed,  the  light  of  genius  itself  is 
in  this  man  ;  which  was  never  yet  base  and  hateful ;  but  at 
worst  was  lamentable,  loveable  with  pity.  They  say  that  he 
was  ambitious,  that  he  wanted  to  be  Minister.  It  is  most  true. 
And  was  he  not  simply  the  one  man  in  France  who  could  have 
done  any  good  as  Minister?  Not  vanity  alone,  not  pride 
alone  ;  far  from  that !  Wild  burstings  of  affection  were  in 
this  great  heart ;  of  fierce  lightning,  and  soft  dew  of  pity.  So 
sunk,  bemired  in  wretchedest  defacements,  is  may  be  said  of 
him,  like  the  Magdalen  of  old,  that  he  loved  much :  his  Father, 
the  harshest  of  old  crabbed  men  he  loved  with  warmth,  with 
veneration. 

B3  it  that  his  falls  and  follies  are  manifold, — as  himself  often 
lamented  even  with  tears.*  Alas,  is  not  the  Life  of  every  such 
man  already  a  poetic  Tragedy  ;  made  up  '  of  Fate  and  of  one's 
own  Deservings,'  of  Schicksal  und  eigene  Schuld ;  full  of  the 
elements  of  Pity  and  Fear?  This  brother  man,  if  not  Epic 
for  us,  is  Tragic  ;  if  not  great,  is  lai'ge  ;  large  in  his  qualities, 
world-large  in  his  destinies.  Whom  other  men,  recognising 
him  as  such,  may,  through  long  times,  remember,  and  draw 
*  Dumont,  p.  £87. 


41G  Tli::  TUILLRIES. 

nigh  to  examine  and  consider :  these,  in  their  several  dialects, 
Avill  say  of  him  and  sing  of  him, — till  the  right  thing  be  said  ; 
and  so  the  Formula  that  can  judge  him  be  no  longer  an  un- 
discovered one. 

Here  then  the  wild  Gabriel  Honore  drops  from  the  tissue 
of  our  History  ;  not  without  a  tragic  farewell.  He  is  gone  : 
the  flower  of  the  wild  Kiquetti  or  Arrighetti  kindred  ;  which 
seems  as  if  in  him,  with  one  last  effort,  it  had  done  its  best, 
and  then  exjjired,  or  sunk  down  to  the  undistinguished  level. 
Crabbed  old  Mai-quis  Mirabeau,  the  Friend  of  Men,  sleeps 
soimd.  The  Bailli  Mirabeau,  worthy  Uncle,  will  soon  die  for- 
lorn, alone.  Barrel-Mirabeau,  already  gone  across  the  Ehjne, 
his  Regiment  of  Emigrants  will  drive  nigh  desperate.  '  Barrel- 
Mirabeau,'  says  a  biogi-apher  of  his,  '  went  indignantly  across 
'  the  Rhine,  and  drilled  Emigi'ant  Regiments.     But  as  he  sat 

*  one  morning  in  his  tent,  sour  of  stomach  doubtless  and  of 
'  heai-t,  meditating  in  Tartarean  humour  on  the  turn  things 

*  took,  a  certain  Captain  or  Subaltern   demanded  admittance 

*  on  business.  Such  Captain  is  refused  ;  he  again  demands, 
'  with  refusal ;  and  then  again,  till  Colonel  Viscount  Bairel- 

*  Mirabeau,  blazing  up  into  a  mere  burning  brandy-barrel, 
'  clutches  his  sword,  and  tumbles  ovit  on  this  canaille  of  an  in- 
'  trader, — alas,  on  the  canaille  of  an  intruder's  sword-point, 

*  whi>  had  drawn  with  swift  dexterity  ;  and  dies,  and  the 
"  Newspapers  name  it  ajjoplexy  and  alarming  accident.'  So  die 
the  jMirabeaus. 

New  Mirabeaus  one  hears  not  of  :  the  wild  kindred,  as  we 
said,  is  gone  out  with  this  its  greatest.  As  families  and  kin- 
dreds sometimes  do  ;  pi'oducing,  after  long  ages  of  unnoted 
notability,  some  living  quintessence  of  all  the  qualities  they 
had,  to  flame  forth  as  a  man  world-noted  ;  after  whom  they 
rest  as  if  exhausted  ;  the  sceptre  passing  to  others.  The 
chosen  last  of  the  IVIirabeaus  is  gone  ;  the  chosen  man  of 
France  is  gone.  It  was  he  who  shook  old  France  from  its 
basis ;  and,  as  if  with  his  single  hand,  has  held  it  toppling 
there,  still  unfallen.  What  things  depended  on  that  one  man  ! 
He  is  as  a  ship  suddenly  shivered  on  sunk  rocks :  much  swims 
on  the  waste  waters,  far  from  help. 


BOOK  XL 


VARENNES. 
CH.1PTER  L 

EASTER    AT     SAINT-CLOUD. 

The  French  Monarcliy  may  now  therefore  be  considered  as, 
in  all  human  probabihty,  lost ;  as  struggiiug  henceforth  in 
blindness  as  well  as  weakness,  the  last  light  of  reasonable 
guidance  having  gone  out.  What  remains  of  resources  their 
poor  Majesties  will  waste  still  further,  in  uncertain  loitering 
and  wavering.  Mirabeau  himself  had  to  comi^lain  that  they 
only  gave  him  half  confidence,  and  always  had  some  plan 
within  his  plan.  Had  they  fled  fi'anhly  with  him  to  Rouen 
or  anywhither,  long  ago  !  They  may  fly  now  with  chance 
immeasurably  lessened  ;  which  will  go  on  lessening  towards 
absolute  zero.  Decide,  O  Queen  ;  poor  Louis  can  decide 
nothing :  execute  this  Flight-project,  or  at  least  abandon  it. 
Correspondence  with  BouilK'  there  has  been  enough  ;  what 
profits  consulting,  and  hypothesis,  while  all  around  is  in  fierce 
activity  of  practice  ?  The  Rustic  sits  waiting  till  the  river 
run  dry :  alas,  with  you  it  is  not  a  common  river,  but  a  Nile 
Inundation  ;  snows  melting  in  the  unseen  mountains  :  till  all, 
and  you  where  you  sit,  be  submerged. 

Many  things  invite  to  flight.  The  voice  of  the  Joui-nals  in- 
vites ;  the  Royalist  Journals  loudly  hinting  it  as  a  threat, 
Patriot  Journals  rabidly  denouncing  it  as  a  terror.  Mother 
Society,  waxing  more  and  more  emphatic,  incites  ; — so  em- 
phatic that,  as  was  prophesied,  Lafayette  and  your  limited 
Patriots  have  ere  long  to  branch  off  from  her,  and  form  them- 
VoL.  I.-27 


41S  rAiin:xxES. 

selves  into  Feuillans  ;  Avitli  infinitG  luiblic  controversy  ;  the 
victory  in  wliich,  doubtful  though  it  look,  will  remain  with 
the  lUfUmited  Mother.  Moreover,  ever  since  the  Day  of  Pon- 
iards, we  have  seen  unlimited  Patriotism  openly  equipping  it- 
self with  arms.  Citizens  denied  '  activity,'  which  is  facetiously 
made  to  signify  a  certain  weight  of  purse,  cannot  buy  blue  uni- 
forms, and  be  Guardsmen  ;  but  man  is  gi-eater  than  blue  cloth  ; 
man  can  fight,  if  need  be,  in  multiform  cloth,  or  even  al- 
most without  cloth,— as  Sansculotte.  So  pikes  continue  to  be  ' 
hammered,  whether  those  Dirks  of  improved  structure  with 
barbs  be  '  meant  for  the  West  India  Market '  or  not  meant. 
Men  beat,  the  wrong  way,  their  ploughshares  into  swords. 
Is  there  not  what  Ave  call  an  'Avistrian  Committee,'  CVmite 
Autrichien,  sitting  daily  and  nightly  in  the  Tuileries  ?  Patriot- 
ism, by  vision  and  suspicion,  knows  it  too  well !  If  the  King 
fly,  will  there  not  be  Aristocrat-Austrian  invasion  ;  butchery  ; 
replacement  of  Feudalism  ;  wars  more  than  civil?  The  hearts 
of  men  are  saddened  and  maddened. 

Dissident  Priests  likewise  give  trouble  enough.  Expelled 
from  their  Parish  Churches,  where  Constitutional  Priests, 
elected  by  the  Public,  have  replaced  them,  these  unhappy  per- 
sons resort  to  Convents  of  Nuns,  or  other  such  receptacles  ; 
and  there,  on  S.ibbath, collecting  assemblages  of  Anti-Consti- 
tu'tional  individuals,  who  have  grown  devout  all  on  a  sudden,* 
they  worship  or  pretend  to  worship  in  their  strait-laced  con- 
tumacious manner  ;  to  the  scandal  of  Patriotism.  Dissident 
Priests,  passing  along  with  their  sacred  wafer  for  the  dj-ing, 
seem  wishful  to  be  massacred  in  the  streets  ;  wherein  Patriot- 
ism will  not  gratify  them.  SHghter  palm  of  martyrdom,  how- 
ever, shall  not  be  denied  :  martyrdom  not  of  massacre,  yet  of 
fustigation.  At  the  refractory  places  of  worship,  Patriot  men 
appear  ;  Patriot  women  with  strong  hazel  wands,  which  they 
apply.  Shut  thy  eyes,  O  Reader  ;  see  not  this  misery,  pacul- 
i  ir  to  these  later  times, — of  martyrdom  without  sincerity,  with 
only  cant  and  contumacy  !  A  dead  Catholic  Church  is  not 
allowed  to  lie  dead  ;  no,  it  is  g.iloanised  into  the  detestablcst 
death-life  ;  whereat  Humanity,  we  say,  shuts  its  eyes.  For  tha 
*  Toulont^con,  i.  26^. 


EASTER  AT  SAINT-CLOUD.  JrlO 

Patriot  "women  take  their  liazel  wands,  and  fus'.igate,  ami.l 
laughter  of  bystanders,  with  alacrity :  broad  bottom  of  Priests ; 
alas.  Nuns  too  reversed,  and  cutiUons  relrousses  I  The  Na- 
tional Guard  does  what  it  can  :  Municipality  '  invokes  the 
Principles  of  toleration  ; '  grants  Dissident  worshippers  the 
Church  of  the  Theatlns  ;  promising  protection.  But  it  is  to 
no  piu-pose  :  at  the  door  of  the  Tlieatins  Church,  appears  a 
Placard,  and  suspended  atop,  like  Plebeian  Consular yasce6;, — a 
Bundle  of  Eods  !  The  Principles  of  Toleration  must  do  the 
best  they  may  :  but  no  Dissident  man  shall  worship  contu- 
maciously ;  there  is  a  PlebiscUum  to  that  efifect ;  which,  though 
unspoken,  is  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  Dissi- 
dent contumacious  Priests  ought  not  to  be  harboui'ed,  even  in 
private,  by  any  man  :  the  Club  of  the  Cordeliers  openly  de- 
nounces Majesty  himself  as  doing  it.* 

Many  things  invite  to  flight :  but  probably  this  thing  above 
all  others,  that  it  has  become  imjDossible  !  On  the  15th  of 
April,  notice  is  given  that  his  Majesty,  who  has  suffei-ed  much 
from  catarrh  lately,  will  enjoy  the  Sirring  weather,  for  a  few 
days,  at  Saint-Cloud,  Out  at  Saint  Cloud  ?  "Wishing  to  cele- 
brate his  Easter,  his  Piiques,  or  Pasch,  there  ;  with  refractory 
Anti-ConstitutionalDissidents? — wishing  rather  to  make  off  for 
Compi"'gne,  and  thence  to  the  Frontiers  ?  As  were,  in  good 
sooth,  perhaps  feasible,  or  would  once  have  been  ;  nothing 
but  some  two  chasseurs  attending  you  ;  chasseurs  easily  cor- 
rupted !  It  is  a  pleasant  possibility,  execute  it  or  not.  Men  s^.y 
there  are  thirty  thousand  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  lurking  iu 
the  woods  there  :  lurking  iu  the  woods,  and  thirty  thousand, 
■ — for  the  human  Imagination  is  not  easily  fettered.  But  now, 
how  easily  tnight  these,  dashing  out  on  Lafayette,  snatch  off 
the  Hereditary  Representative  ;  and  roll  away  with  him,  after 
the  manner  of  a  whirlblast,  whither  they  listed  ! — Enough,  it 
were  well  the  Iving  did  not  go.  Lafayette  is  forewai'ned  an  1 
forearmed :  but  indeed,  is  the  risk  his  only ;  or  his  and  all 
France's? 

Monday  the  eighteenth  of  April  is  come  ;  the  Easter  Jour- 
ney to  Saint-Cloud  shall  take  effect.  National  Guard  has 
*  Newspapers  of  April  and  June,  1791  (in  Hist.  Farl.  ix.  149). 


got  ils  orders  ;  a  First  Division,  as  Advanced  Guai'd,  Las  even 
marched,  and  probably  arrived.  His  Majesty's  Muuon-bouchr, 
they  say,  is  all  busy  stewing  and  frying  at  S-iint-Cloud  ;  the 
King's  dinner  not  far  from  ready  there.  About  one  o'clock, 
the  Eoyal  Coi-riage  Avith  its  eight  royal  blacks,  shoots  stately 
into  the  Place  du  Carrousel ;  draws  ujd  to  receive  its  royal 
burden.  But  hark  !  from  the  neighbouring  Church  of  Saint - 
Koch,  the  tocsin  begins  ding-dong-ing.  Is  the  King  stolen 
then  ;  is  he  going  ;  gone  ?  Multitudes  of  persons  crowd  the 
Carrousel :  The  Royal  Carnage  still  stands  there  ;— and,  by 
Heaven's  strength  shall  stand  ! 

Lafayette  comes  up  ;  with  aides-de-camp  and  oratoiy  ;  per- 
vading the  gi'oups  :  "  Tai'<ez-vous,"  answer  the  groups,  "the 
King  shall  not  go."  Monsieur  appears,  at  an  upper  window  : 
ten  thousand  voices  bray  and  shriek,  "Nuns  ne  vouhms  pas 
que  le  Roi  parte."  Their  Majesties  have  mounted.  Crack  go 
the  whips  ;  but  twenty  Patriot  arms  have  seized  each  of  the 
eight  bridles  :  there  is  rearing,  rocking,  vociferation  ;  not  the 
smallest  headway.  In  vain  does  Lafayette  fret,  indignant; 
and  perorate  and  strive  :  Patriots,  in  the  j^assion  of  terror, 
bellow  round  the  Ptoyal  Cai-riage  ;  it  is  one  bellowing  sea 
of  Patriot  teiTor  run  frantic.  Will  royalty  fly  oflf  towards 
Austria ;  like  a  lit  rocket,  towards  endless  Conflagration  of 
Civil  War?  Stop  it,  ye  Patriots,  in  the  name  of  Heaven! 
Rude  voices  passionately  apostrophise  Royalty  itself.  "Usher 
Cainpan,  and  other  the  like  ofBcial  jiersons,  pressing  forward 
with  help  or  advice,  are  clutched  by  the  sashes,  and  hurled 
and  whirled,  in  a  confused  perilous  manner  ;  so  that  hor 
Majesty  has  to  plead  passionately  from  the  carriage  window. 

Order  cannot  be  heard,  cannot  be  followed  ;  National 
Guards  know  not  how  to  act.  Centre  Grenadiers,  of  the  Ob- 
Bervatoire  B.ittalion,  are  there  ;  not  on  duty  ;  alas,  in  quasi- 
mutiny  ;  speaking  rude  disobedient  words ;  threatening  the 
mounted  Guards  with  sharp  shot  if  they  hurt  the  people. 
Lafayette  mounts  and  dismounts ;  runs  haranguing,  j^anting  ; 
on  the  verge  of  despair.  For  an  hour  and  three-quarters  ; 
'  seven  quarters  of  an  hour,'  by  the  Tuileries  Clock !  Des- 
perate Lafayette  will  open  a  passage,  were  it  by  the  cannon's 


EASTER  AT  PARIS.  421 

mouth,  if  Lis  Majesty  will  order.  Tbeii'  Majesties,  counselled 
to  it  by  Koyalist  friends,  by  Patriot  foes,  dismount ;  and  re- 
tire in,  with  heavy  indignant  heart ;  giving  up  the  EnteriDrise. 
Maison-houche  may  eat  that  cooked  dinner  themselves  :  hia 
Majesty  shall  not  see  Saint-Cloud  this  day, — nor  any  day.* 

The  pathetic  fable  of  imprisonment  in  one's  own  Palace  has 
become  a  sad  fact,  then?  Majesty  complains  to  Assembly. 
Municipality  dehberates,  proposes  to  petition  or  address  ;  Sec- 
tions respond  with  sidlen  brevity  of  negation.  Lafayette 
flings  down  his  Commission  ;  appears  in  civic  pei)per-and-salt 
frock  ;  and  cannot  be  flattered  back  again  ;  not  in  less  than 
three  days  ;  and  by  imheard-of  entreaty  ;  National  Guards 
Imeeling  to  him,  and  declaring  that  it  is  not  sycophancy, 
that  they  are  free  men  kneeling  here  to  the  Statue  of  Lib- 
erty. For  the  rest,  those  Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  Obser- 
vatoire  are  disbanded, — yet  indeed  are  re-enlisted,  all  but 
fourteen,  under  a  new  name,  and  with  new  quarters.  The 
King  must  keep  his  Easter  in  Paris  ;  meditating  much  on 
this  singular  posture  of  things  ;  but  as  good  as  determined 
now  to  fly  from  it,  desire  being  whetted  by  difficulty. 


CHAPTER  n. 

EASTER     AT     PARIS. 


For  above  a  year,  ever  since  March,  1790,  it  would  seem, 
there  has  hovered  a  project  of  Flight  before  the  royal  mind  •, 
and  ever  and  anon  has  been  condensing  itself  into  something 
like  a  purpose  ;  but  this  or  the  other  difficulty  always  vapor- 
ised it  again.  It  seems  so  ftdl  of  risks,  perhaps  of  civil  war 
i's^lf ;  above  all,  it  cannot  be  done  without  effort.  Somnolent 
1  iziness  will  not  serve  :  to  fly,  if  not  in  a  leather  mche,  one 
must  verily  stir  himself.  Better  to  adopt  that  Constitution 
of  theirs  ;  execute  it  so  as  to  show  all  men  that  it  is  i/2executa- 
ble  ?  Batter  or  not  so  good  ;  surely  it  is  easier.  To  all  diffi- 
culties you  need  only  say.  There  is  a  lion  in  the  path,  behold 
your  Constitution  will  not  act !  For  a  Somnolent  person  iji 
*  Deux  Amis,  vi.  c.  1. — Hist   Fail.  ix.  407-14. 


i  -^  varex:n'es. 

roquires  no  elTort  to  counterfeit  Death, — as  Dame  de  Stael 
aud  Friends  of  Liberty  can  see  the  King's  Government  long 
doing, /aisaH^  le  vwrL 

Nay  now,  when  desire  whetted  by  difficulty  has  brought  the 
matter  to  a  head,  aud  the  royal  mind  no  longer  halts  between 
two,  what  can  come  of  it?  Grant  that  poor  Louis  were  safe 
with  Bouille,  what  on  the  whole  could  he  look  for  there  ? 
Exasperated  Tickets  of  Entry  answer  :  Much  all.  But  cold 
Reason  answers  :  Little,  almost  nothing.  Is  not  Loyalty  a 
l.iw  of  Nature  ?  ask  the  Tickets  of  Entry.  Is  not  love  of  your 
King,  and  even  death  for  him,  the  glory  of  all  Frenchmen, — 
except  these  few  Democrats?  Let  Democrat  Constitution- 
builders,  see  what  they  will  do  without  their  Keystone  ;  aud 
France  rend  its  hair,  having  lost  the  Hereditary  Representa- 
tive ! 

Thus  will  King  Louis  fly  ;  one  sees  not  reasonably  towards 
what.  As  a  maltreated  Boy,  shall  we  say,  who  having  a  Step- 
mother, rushes  sullcy  into  the  wide  world  ;  and  will  wring  the 
paternal  heart  ? — Poor  Louis  escapes  from  known  unsupport- 
able  evils,  to  an  unknown  mixture  of  good  and  evil,  coloured 
by  Hope.  He  goes,  as  Rabelais  did  when  dying,  to  seek  a 
great  May-be  :  je  vais  chercher  un  grand  Peuf-Ctrc  !  As  not 
only  the  sulky  Boy  but  the  wise  grown  Man  is  obliged  to  do, 
so  often,  in  emergencies. 

For  the  rest,  there  is  still  no  lack  of  stimulants,  and  stei> 
dame  maltreatments,  to  keep  one's  resolution  at  the  due  pitch. 
I'actious  disturbance  ceases  not  :  as  indeed  how  can  they, 
imless  authoritatively  conjured,  in  a  revolt  which  is  by  nature 
bottomless  ?  If  the  ceasing  of  faction  be  the  price  of  tlie 
King's  somnolence,  he  may  awake  when  he  will,  and  take  wing. 

Remark,  in  any  case,  what  somersets  and  contortions  a  dead 
Catholicism  is  making, — skilfully  galvanised  ;  hideous,  and 
even  piteous,  to  behold !  Jurant  and  Dissident,  with  their 
shaved  crowns,  argue  frothing  everywhere  ;  or  are  ceasing  to 
argue,  and  stripping  for  battle.  In  Paris  was  scourging,  while 
need  continued  :  contrariwise,  in  the  Morbihan  of  Brittany, 
without  scourging,  armed  Peasants  are  up,  roused  by  pulpit- 
drum,  they  know  not  why.     General  Dumouriez,  who  has  got 


EASTER  AT  PARIS.  423 

missioned  tliitberward,  finds  all  in  sour  heat  of  darkness  : 
finds  also  that  explanation  and  conciliation  will  still  do  much.* 

But  again,  consider  this  :  that  his  Holiness,  Pius  Sixth,  has 
seen  good  to  excommunicate  Bishop  Talleyrand  !  Surel}^, 
we  will  say  then,  considering  it,  there  is  no  living  or  dead 
Church  in  the  Earth  that  has  not  the  indubitablest  right  to 
excommunicate  Talleyrand.  Pope  Pius  has  right  and  might, 
in  his  way.  But  truly,  so  likewise  has  Father  Adam,  ci-devant 
Marquis  Saint-Huruge,  in  his  way.  Behold,  therefore,  on  the 
Fourth  of  May,  in  the  Palais-Royal,  a  mixed  loud-sounding 
multitude  ;  in  the  middle  of  whom.  Father  Adam,  bull-voiced 
Saint-Huruge,  in  white  hat,  towers  visible  and  audible.  With 
him,  it  is  said,  walks  Journalist  Gorsas,  walk  many  others  of 
the  washed  sort ;  for  no  authority  will  interfere.  Pius  Sixth, 
with  his  plush  and  tiara  and  jDower  of  the  Keys,  the}^  bear 
aloft :  of  natural  size, — made  of  lath  and  combustible  gum. 
Eoyou,  the  King's  Friend,  is  borne  too  in  effigy  ;  with  a  pile 
of  Newspaper  Kings-Friends,  condemned  Numbers  of  the 
Ami-da-Eoi ;  fit  fuel  of  the  sacrifice.  Speeches  are  spoken  ; 
a  judgment  is  held,  a  doom  proclaimed,  audible  in  bull- voice, 
towards  the  four  winds.  And  thus,  amid  great  shouting,  the 
holocaust  is  consummated,  under  the  summer  sky  ;  and  our 
lath-and-gum  Holiness,  with  the  attendant  victims,  mounts  up 
in  flame,  and  sinks  down  in  ashes  ;  a  decomposed  Pope  :  and 
right  or  might,  among  all  the  parties,  has  better  or  worse  ac- 
complished itself,  as  it  could.f  But  on  the  whole,  reckoning 
from  Martin  Luther  in  the  Market-place  of  Wittenberg  to 
Marquis  Saint-Huruge  in  this  Palais-Royal  of  Pciris,  what  a 
journey  have  we  gone  ;  into  what  strange  territories  has  it 
carried  us  !  No  Authority  can  now  interfere.  Nay  Religion 
lierself,  mourning  for  such  things,  may  after  all  ask,  AVhat 
have  1  to  do  with  them  ? 

In  such  extraordinary  manner  does  dead  Catholicism  som- 
erset and  caper,  skilfully  galvanised.  For,  does  the  reader  in- 
quire into  the  subject-matter  of  controversy  in  this  case  ;  what 
the  diflerence  between  Orthodoxy  or  My-doxy  and  Hetero- 

*  Denx  Amis,  V.  410-21.     Dumouriez,  ii.  c   5, 
t  Hist.  larl.  x.  99-102. 


424  VAREXNES. 

tloxy  or  Thy-doxy  might  here  be  ?  My-doxy  is,  that  an  au- 
gust National  Assembly  can  equalize  the  extent  of  Bishop- 
ricks;  that  an  equalized  Bishop,  his  Creed  and  Formularies 
being  left  quite  as  they  were,  can  swear  Fidehty  to  the  King, 
Law  and  Nation,  and  so  become  a  Constitutional  Bishop.  Tliy- 
doxy,  if  thou  be  Dissident,  is  that,  he  cannot ;  but  that  be 
must  become  an  accursed  thing.  Human  ill-nature  needs  but 
some  Homoiousian  iola,  or  even  the  pretence  of  one  ;  and  will 
flow  copiously  tln-ough  the  eye  of  a  needle  ;  thus  always  must 
mortals  go  jargoning  and  fuming, 

And,  like  the  ancient  Stoics  in  their  porches, 
With  fierce  dispute  maintain  their  churches. 

This  Auto-da-fe  of  Saint-Huruge's  was  on  the  Fourth  of 
May,  1791.     Eoyalty  sees  it,  but  says  nothing. 


CHAPTER  HL 

COUNT      F  E  R  S  E  X . 


EoY.\LTY,  in  fact,  should,  by  this  time,  be  far  on  with  its 
preparations.  L'nhappily  much  preparation  is  needful.  Could 
a  Hereditary  Representative  be  carried  in  leather  vache,  how 
ea.sy  were  it !     But  it  is  not  so. 

New  Clothes  are  needed  ;  as  usual,  in  aU  Epic  transactions, 
were  it  in  the  grimmest  iron  ages  ;  consider  '  Queen  Chrim- 
hilde,  with  her  sixty  sempstresses,'  in  that  iron  Nibeluugen 
Song  !  No  Queeu  can  stir  without  new  clothes.  Therefore, 
now,  Dame  Campan  Avhisks  assiduous  to  this  mantua-maker 
and  to  that,  and  there  is  clipping  of  frocks  and  gowns,  upper 
clothes  and  under,  great  and  small  ;  such  a  chpping  and  sew- 
ing, as  might  have  been  dispensed  with.  Moreover,  her  Maj- 
esty cannot  go  a  step  any  whither  without  her  Necessaire ; 
dear  Necessaire,  of  inlaid  ivory  and  rosewood  ;  cunningly 
devised  ;  which  holds  perfumes,  toilette-itnplements,  infinite 
small  queenlike  furnitures  :  necessary  to  texTestrial  life.  Not 
without  a  cost  of  some  five  hundred  louis,  of  much  pi-ecious 
time,  and  difftcult  licodwinking  whi^h  does  not  blind,  can 


COUNT  FEESEN.  425 

this  same  Necessaiy  of  life  be  forwarded  by  the  Flanders 
Caiiiers, — never  to  get  to  hand.*  All  which,  you  would  say, 
augurs  ill  for  the  prospering  of  the  enterprise.  But  the  whima 
of  women  and  queens  must  be  humoured. 

Bouille,  on  his  side,  is  making  a  fortified  Camp  atMontmedi, 
gathering  Royal-Allemand,  and  all  manner  of  other  German 
and  true  French  Troops  thither,  '  to  watch  the  Austrians.'  His 
Majesty  will  not  cross  the  Frontiers,  unless  on  compulsion. 
Neither  shall  the  Emigrants  be  much  employed,  hateful  as 
they  are  to  all  people,  f  Nor  shall  old  war-god  Broglie  have 
any  hand  in  the  business  ;  but  solely  our  brave  Bouille  ;  to 
whom,  on  the  day  of  meeting,  a  Marshal's  Baton  shall  be 
delivered,  by  a  rescued  King,  amid  the  shouting  of  all  the 
troops.  In  the  mean  while,  Paris  being  so  suspicious,  were 
it  not  perhaps  good  to  write  yoiu-  Foreign  Ambassadct's  an 
ostensible  Constitutional  Letter  ;  desiring  all  Kings  and  men 
to  take  heed  that  King  Louis  loves  the  Constitution,  ihat  he 
has  voluntarily  sworn,  and  does  again  swear,  to  mainiain  the 
same,  and  will  reckon  those  his  enemies  who  affect  to  say 
otherwise  ?  Such  a  Constitutional  Circular  is  despatched  by 
Couriers,  is  communicated  confidentially  to  the  Asseittbly,  and 
printed  in  all  newspapers  ;  with  the  finest  effect.;];  Simulation 
and  dissimulation  mingle  extensively  in  human  affairs. 

"We  observe,  however,  that  Count  Fersen  is  often  asing  hia 
Ticket  of  Entry  ;  which  surely  he  has  clear  right  to  do.  A 
gallant  Soldier  and  Swede,  devoted  to  this  fair  Queen  ; — as, 
indeed,  the  Highest  Swede  now  is.  Has  not  King  Gustav, 
famed  fiery  Chevalier  du  Nord,  sworn  himself,  by  the  old  laws 
of  chivalry,  her  Knight?  He  will  descend  on  fire-win^s,  of 
Swedish  musketry,  and  deliver  her  from  these  foul  dragons, 
—if,  alas,  the  assassin's  pistol  intervene  not ! 

But,  in  fact,  Count  Fersen  does  seem  a  likely  youag  soldier, 
of  alert,  decisive  ways  :  he  circulates  widely,  seen,  unseen  :  and 
lias  business  on  hand.  Also  Colonel  the  Duke  dy  Clioiseul, 
nephew  of  Choiseul  the  great,  of  Choiseul  the  now  deceased  ; 

*  Campan,  ii    18.  fBouill':  Mcmoires,   ii.   s   10. 

I  Moniteur,  Sauce  du  ZZ  Avril,  ITOl. 


42G  VARENNES. 

lie  and  Engineer  Goguelat  are  passing  and  repassing  between 
Metz  and  the  Tuileries :  and  letters  go  in  cipher, — one  of 
them,  a  most  important  one,  hard  to  decipher  ;  Fersen  hav- 
ing ciphered  it  in  haste.*  As  for  Duke  de  Villequier,  he  is 
gone  ever  since  the  Day  of  Poniards  ;  but  his  apartment  is 
useful  for  her  Mnjest}-. 

•  On  the  other  side,  poor  Commandant  Gouvion,  watching 
at  the  Tuileries,  second  in  National  Command,  sees  several 
things  hard  to  interpret.  It  is  the  same  Gouvion  who  sat, 
long  months  ago,  at  the  Townhall,  gazing  helpless  into  that 
Insurrection  of  Women  ;  motionless,  as  the  brave  stabled 
steed  when  conflagration  rises,  till  Usher  Maillard  snatched 
his  drum.  Sincerer  Patriot  there  is  not  ;  but  many  a  shift- 
ier. He,  if  Dame  Campan  gossip  credibly,  is  paying  some 
similitude  of  love-court  to  a  certain  false  Chambermaid  of  the 
Palace,  who  betrays  much  to  him  :  the  Necessaire,  the  clothes, 
the  packing  of  jewels, f  could  he  understand  it  when  be- 
trayed. Helpless  Gouvion  gazes  with  sincere  glassy  eyes 
into  it ;  stirs  up  his  sentries  to  vigilance  ;  walks  restless  to 
and  fro  ;  and  hopes  the  best. 

But,  on  the  whole,  one  finds  that,  in  the  second  week  of 
June,  Colonel  de  Choiseul  is  privately  in  Paris  ;  having  come 
'  to  see  his  children.'  Also  that  Fersen  has  got  a  stupendous 
new  Coach  built,  of  the  kind  named  Berllne ;  done  by  the 
first  artists  ;  according  to  a  model :  they  bring  it  home  to 
him,  in  Choiseul's  presence  ;  the  two  friends  take  a  proof- 
drive  in  it,  along  the  streets  ;  in  meditative  mood  ;  then  send 
it  up  to  'Madame  SulHvan's,  in  the  Rue  de  Clichy,'far  North, 
to  wait  there  till  wanted.  Apparently  a  certain  Russian  Bar- 
oness de  Korff,  with  Waiting-woman,  Valet,  and  two  Children, 
will  travel  homewards  with  some  state  :  in  whom  these  young 
military  gentlemen  take  interest  ?  A  Passport  has  been  pro- 
cured for  her  ;  and  much  assistance  shown,  with  Coach-build- 
ers, and  such  like  ;— so  helpful  polite  are  young  military 
men.  Fersen  has  likewise  purchased  a  Chaise  fit  for  two, 
at  least  for  two  waiting-maids  ;   further,  certain   necessary 

*  Choiseul :  Kelation  du  Depart  de  Louis  XVI.  ^Paris,  1822),  p.  39. 

f  Campari,  ii.  141. 


COUNT  r]:nsi^x.  427 

horses :  ouo  "O'oul J  say,  he  is  himself  quitting  France,  not 
■\A-ithout  outlay  ?  "NVe  observe  finally  that  their  Majesties, 
Heaven  willing,  will  assist  at  Corpus-  Christi  Day,  this  blessed 
Summer  Solstice,  in  Assumption  Church,  here  at  Paris,  to 
the  joy  of  all  the  world.  For  which  same  day,  moreover, 
brave  Bouille,  at  Metz,  as  we  find,  has  invited  a  party  of 
friends  to  dinner ;  but  indeed  is  gone  from  home  in  the  in- 
terim, over  to  Montmedi. 

These  are  of  the  Phenomena,  or  visual  Ajijiearances,  of  this 
wide-working  terrestrial  world  :  which  truly  is  all  phenomenal, 
what  they  call  spectral ;  and  never  rests  at  any  moment ;  one 
never  at  any  moment  can  know  why. 

On  Monday  night,  the  Twentieth  of  June,  1791,  about 
eleven  o'clock,  there  is  many  a  hackney-coach,  and  glass- coach 
(carrosse  de  remUe),  still  rumbling,  or  at  rest,  on  the  streets  of 
Paris.  But  of  all  glass-coaches,  we  recommend  this  to  thee, 
O  Reader,  which  stands  drawn  iip,  in  the  Rue  de  I'Echelle, 
hard  by  the  Carrousel  and  outgate  of  the  Tuileries ;  in  the 
Rue  de  I'Echelle  that  then  was  ;  '  opposite  Ronsin  the  saddler's 
door,'  as  if  waiting  for  a  fare  there-!  Not  long  does  it  wait : 
a  hooded  Dame,  with  two  hooded  Children,  has  issued  fi'om 
Villequier's  door,  where  no  sentry  w\alks,  into  the  Tuileries 
Court-of-Princes  ;  into  the  Carrousel ;  into  the  Rue  de 
TEchelle  ;  where  the  Glass-coachman  readily  admits  them  ; 
and  again  waits.  Not  long  ;  another  Dame,  likewise  hooded 
or  shrouded,  leaning  on  a  sei'vant,  issues  in  the  same  manner ; 
bids  the  servant  good  night ;  and  is,  in  the  same  manner,  by 
the  Glass-coachman,  cheerfully  admitted.  Whither  go  so 
many  Dames?  'Tis  His  Majesty's  Couchte,  Majesty  just  gone 
to  bed,  and  all  the  Palace-world  is  retiring  home.  But  the 
Glass-coachman  stiU  waits  ;  his  fare  seemingly  incomplete. 

By  and  by,  we  note  a  thickset  Individual,  in  round  hat  and 
peruke,  arm-and-arm  with  some  servant,  seemingly  of  the 
Runner  or  Courier  sort ;  he  also  issues  through  Villequier's 
door ;  starts  a  shoebuckle  as  he  passes  one  of  the  sentries, 
stoops  down  to  clasp  it  again  ;  is  however,  by  the  Glass-coach- 
man still  more  cheerfully  admitted.      And  noiv,  is  his  fare 


42S  VARENNE8. 

complete  ?  Not  yet ;  the  Glass-coachman  still  waits. — Alas  i 
and  the  false  Chambermaid  has  warned  Gouvion  that  sho 
thinks  the  Royal  FaniLly  will  fly  this  very  night ;  and  Gou- 
vion, distrusting  his  own  glazed  eyes,  has  sent  express  for 
Lafayette  ;  and  Lafayette's  Carriage,  flaring  with  lights,  roll? 
this  moment  through  tlie  inner  Arch  of  the  Carrousel, — • 
Avliere  a  Lady  shaded  in  broad  gipsy-hat,  and  leaning  on  the 
r.r:n  of  a  servant,  also  of  the  Runner  or  Courier  sort,  stands 
aside  to  let  it  pass,  and  has  even  the  whim  to  touch  a  spoke 
of  it  with  her  badine, — hght  little  magic  rod  which  she  call^ 
hadine,  such  as  the  Beautiful  Ihen  wore.  The  flare  of  Lafay- 
ette's Carriage  rolls  past :  all  is  found  quiet  in  the  Court-of- 
Princes  ;  sentries  at  their  post ;  Majesties'  Apartments  closed 
in  smooth  rest.  Your  false  Chambermaid  must  liaA'e  been 
mistaken  ?  Watch  thou,  Gouvion,  with  Argus'  vigilance  ;  for, 
of  a  truth,  treachery  is  within  these  v/alls. 

Bat  Avhere  is  the  Lady  that  stood  aside  in  gipsy-hat,  and 
touched  the  Avheel-spoke  with  her  hadine?  O  Reader,  that 
Lxdy  that  touched  the  wheel-spoke  was  the  Queen  of  France  ! 
Slie  has  issued  safe  through  that  inner  Arch,  into  the  Car- 
rousel itself  ;  but  not  into  the  Rue  do  TEchelle.  Flurried  by 
the  rattle  and  rencounter,  she  took  the  right  hand,  not  the 
left ;  neither  she  nor  her  Courier  knows  Paris  ;  he  indeed  is 
no  Courier,  but  a  loyal  stupid  cidevmit  Bodyg-uard  disguised 
as  one.  They  are  off,  quite  -wrong,  over  the  Pont  Royal  and 
River  ;  roaming  disconsolate  in  the  Rue  du  Bac  ;  far  from  the 
Glass-coachman,  who  still  waits.  Waits  with  flutter  of  heart ; 
v.ith  thoughts — which  he  must  button  close  up,  under  his 
j  irvie  surtout ! 

Midnight  clangs  from  all  the  City-steeples  ;  one  preciou? 
hour  has  been  spent  so  ;  most  mortals  are  asleep.  The 
Glass-coachman  waits  ;  and  in  what  mood  !  A  brother  jarvie 
drives  up,  enters  into  conversation  ;  is  answered  cheerfully  in 
j  u-vie  dialect :  the  brothers  of  the  whip  exchange  a  pinch  of 
snuff ;  *  decline  drinking  together  ;  and  part  with  good-night. 
Be  the  Heavens  blest !  here  at  length  is  the  Queen-lady,  in 
gipsy-hat ;  safe  after  perils  ;  who  has  had  to  inquire  her  way. 
*  Webfr,  ii.   340-2.     Clioiseul,  p.  44-50. 


COUNT  FERSEN.  '  429 

She  too  is  admitted  ;  her  Courier  jumps  aloft  as  the  other, 
•who  is  also  a  disguised  Bodyguard,  has  done  ;  and  now,  O 
Glass-coachman  of  a  thousand, — Count  Fersen,  for  the  Read- 
er sees  it  is  thoi?,— drive  ! 

Dust  shall  not  stick  to  the  hoofs  of  Fersen  :  crack  !  crack  ! 
the  Glass-coach  rattles,  and  every  soul  breathes  lighter.  But 
is  Fersen  on  the  right  road  ?  Northeastward,  to  the  Bari'ier 
of  Saint-Martin  and  Metz  Highway,  thither  were  we  bound  : 
and  lo,  he  drives  right  NortliAvard  !  The  royal  Individual  in 
round  hat  and  peruke,  sits  astonished  ;  but  right  or  wrong, 
there  is  no  remedy.  Crack,  crack,  we  go  incessant,  through  the 
slumbering  City.  Seldom,  since  Paris  rose  out  of  mud,  or 
Longhaired  Kings  went  in  Bullock-carts,  was  there  such  a 
drive.  Mortals  on  each  hand  of  you,  close  by,  stretched  out 
horizontal,  dormant,  and  we  alive  and  quaking  !  Crack,  crack, 
through  the  Rue  de  Grammont  ;  across  the  Boulevard  ;  up 
the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin, — these  windows,  all  silent,  of 
Number  42,  Avere  IMirabeau's.  Towards  the  Barrier,  not  of 
Saint-Martin,  but  of  Clichy  on  the  utmost  North  !  Patience, 
ye  royal  Individuals  ;  Fersen  understands  what  he  is  about. 
Passing  up  the  Rue  de  Clichy,  he  alights  for  one  moment  at 
Madame  Sullivan's:  "Did  Count  Fersen's  Coachman  get  the 
"  Baroness  de  Korff  s  new  Berline  ?  " — "  Gone  with  it  an  hour- 
"and-half  ago,"  grumbles  responsive  the  drowsy  Porter. — 
"  Cest  hien"  Yes,  it  is  well — though  had  not  such  hour-and- 
half  been  lost,  it  v/ere  still  better.  Forth  therefore,  O  Fersen, 
fast,  by  the  Barrier  de  Clichy  ;  then  Eastw^ard  along  the  Outer 
Boulevard,  what  horses  and  whipcord  can  do  ! 

Thus  Fersen  drives,  through  the  ambi'osial  night.  Sleep- 
ing Paris  is  now  all  on  the  right  hand  of  him  ;  silent  except 
for  some  snoring  hum  :  and  now  he  is  Eastward  as  far  as  the 
Barrier  de  Saint-Martin  ;  looking  earnestly  for  Baroness  do 
Korfi's  Berline.  This  Heaven's  Berline  he  at  length  does  de- 
scry, drawn  up  with  its  six  horses,  his  own  German  Coachman 
waiting  on  the  box.  Right,  thou  good  German  :  now  haste, 
whither  thou  knowest  '.—And  as  for  us  of  the  Glass-coach, 
haste  too,  O  haste  ;  much  time  is  also  ready  lost !  The  au- 
gust Glass-coach  fare,  six  Insides,  hastily  packs  itself  into  the 


430  ■  VARENNiliB. 

new  Berline  ;  two  Bodyguard  Couriers  beliind.  The  Glass. 
coach  itself  is  turned  adrift,  its  head,  towards  the  City  ;  to 
wander  whither  it  lists,  and  be  found  next  morning  tumbled 
into  a  ditch.  But  Fersen  is  on  the  new  box,  with  its  brava 
new  hammer-cloths  ;  flourishing  his  Avliip  ;  he  bolts  forward 
towards  Bondy.  There  a  third  and  final  Bodyguard  Courier 
of  ours  ought  surely  to  be,  with  post-horses  ready  ordered. 
There  likewise  ought  that  purchased  Chaise,  with  the  two 
Waiting-maids  and  their  bandboxes,  to  be,  whom  also  her 
Majesty  could  not  travel  without.  Swift,  thou  deft  Ferscn 
and  may  the  Heavens  turn  it  well  ! 

Once  more,  by  Heaven's  blessing,  it  is  all  well.  Here  ia 
the  sleeping  H  unlet  of  Bondy  ;  Chaise  with  Waiting-women  ; 
horses  all  ready,  and  postilions  with  their  churn-boots,  im- 
patient in  the  dewy  dawn.  Brief  harnessing  done,  the  postil- 
ions with  their  churn-boots  vault  into  the  saddles  ;  brandish 
circularly  their  little  noisy  whips.  Fersen,  under  his  jarvie- 
surtout,  bends  in  lowly  silent  reverence  of  adieu ;  roycl 
hands  wave  speechless  inexpressible  response  ;  Baroness  de 
Korffs  Berline,  with  the  Royalty  of  France,  bounds  off:  for- 
ever, as  it  proved.  Daft  Fersen  dashes  obliquely  Nortlnvard, 
through  the  country,  towards  Bougi'et ;  gains  Bougret,  finds 
his  German  Coachman  and  chariot  waiting  there  ;  ci*aclcs  off, 
and  drives  undiscovered  into  unknown  space.  A  deft  active 
man,  we  say  ;  what  he  undertook  to  do  is  nimbly  and  success- 
fully done. 

And  so  the  Eoyalty  of  France  is  actually  fled  ?  This  pre- 
cious night,  the  shortest  of  the  year,  it  flies,  and  drives  !  Bar" 
oness  de  Korjf  is,  at  bottom,  Dame  de  Tourzel,  Governess  of 
the  Royal  Children  :  she  who  came  hooded  with  the  twr 
hooded  little  ones,  little  Dauphin  ;  little  Madame  Royale,' 
known  long  afterwards  as  Duchess  d'Angoul'-me.  Baroness 
de  Korfl^s  Waiting-maid  is  the  Queen  in  giiDsy-hat.  The  royal 
Individual  in  round  hat  and  peruke,  he  is  Valet  for  the  time 
being.  That  other  hooded  Dame,  styled  Travelling  companion, 
is  kind  Sister  Elizabeth  ;  she  had  sworn,  long  since,  when  the 
Insurrection  of  Women  was,  that  only  death  should  part  her 


ATTITUDE.  '^ZX 

and  them.  And  so  they  rush  there,  not  too  impetuonslv, 
through  th3  Wood  of  Boudy  :— over  a  llubicon  m  their  own 
and  Fi-ance's  History. 

Great ;  though  the  future  is  all  vague  !  If  we  reach  BoiuU  J  ? 
If  we  do  not  reach  him  ?  O  Louis  !  and  this  all  round  thee  i3 
t!ie  great  slumbering  Earth  (and  overhead,  the  great  watchful 
Heaven)  ;  the  slumbering  Wood  of  Bondy, — where  Longhaired 
Cliilderic  Donothing  was  stnick  through  with  iron  ;  *  not  un- 
reasonably, in  a  world  like  ours.  These  peaked  stone-towers 
are  Eaincy  ;  towers  of  wicked  d'Orleans.  All  slumbers  save 
the  multiplex  rustle  of  our  new  Berline.  Loose-skirted  scare- 
crow of  an  Herb -merchant,  with  his  ass  and  early  greens,  toil- 
somely plodding,  seems  the  only  creature  we  meet.  But 
rigbt  ahead  the  great  North-East  sends  up  ever  more  his  gray 
brindled  dawn  :  from  dewy  branch,  birds  here  and  there,  with 
short  deep  warble,  salute  the  coming  Sun.  Stars  fade  out, 
and  Galaxies  ;  Street-lamps  of  the  City  of  God.  The  Uni- 
vers3,  O  my  brothers,  is  flinging  wide  its  portals  for  the 
Levee  of  the  Great  High  King.  Thou,  j)oor  King  Louis, 
farest  nevertheless,  as  mortals  do  towards  Orient  Lands  of 
Hoj^e  ;  and  the  Tuileries  with  its  Levees,  and  France  and  the 
Earth  itself,  is  but  a  larger  kind  of  doghutch, — occasionally 
going  rabid. 


CHilPTER  IV. 


But  in  Paris,  at  six  in  the  morning  ;  when  some  Patriot 
Deputy,  warned  by  a  billet,  awoke  Lafayette,  and  they  went 
to  the  Tuileries  ? — Imagination  maj^  paint,  but  words  cannot, 
the  surprise  of  Lafayette  ;  or  with  what  bewilderment  helpless 
Gouvion  rolled  glassy  Argus'  eyes,  discerning  now  that  his 
false  Chambermaid  had  told  true  ! 

However,  it  is  to  be  recorded  that  Paris,  thanks  to  an 
august  National  Assembly,  did,  on  this  seeming  doomsday, 
surpass  itself.     Never,  according  to  Historian  eye-witnesses, 

*  Henault :  Abr.'go  Clironologiqiie,  p.  36. 


432  VARENNES. 

was  there  seen  such  an  'imposing  attitude.'*  Sections  all 
'  in  permanence  ; '  our  Town-hall  too,  having  first,  about  ten 
o'clock,  fired  thi-ee  solemn  alarm-cannous :  above  all,  our 
National  Assembly  !  National  Assembly,  hkewise  jjermanent, 
decides  what  is  needful ;  with  unanimous  consent,  for  the 
Cote  JJroit  sits  dumb,  afraid  of  the  Lanterne.  Decides  with 
a  calm  promptitude,  which  rises  towards  the  sublime.  One 
must  needs  vote,  for  the  thing  is  self-evident,  that  his  Majesty 
h?.s  been  abducted,  or  spirited  away,  '  enleve,'  by  some  person 
or  persons  unknown  :  in  which  case,  what  will  the  Constitu- 
tion have  us  do  ?  Let  us  return  to  first  principles,  as  we 
always  say  :  '  iwenons  aux principcs.' 

By  first  or  by  second  principles,  much  is  promptly  decided  : 
Ministers  are  sent  for,  instructed  how  to  continue  their  func- 
tions ;  Lafayette  is  examined  ;  and  Gouvion,  who  gives  a 
most  helpless  account,  the  best  he  can.  Letters  are  found 
Avi-itten :  one  Letter,  of  immense  magnitude  ;  all  in  his 
Majesty's  hand,  and  evidently  of  his  Majesty's  own  composi- 
tion ;  addressed  to  the  National  Assembly.  It  details,  with 
earnestness,  with  a  childlike  simplicity,  what  woes  his  Majesty 
has  suffered.  Woes  great  and  smaU  :  A  Necker,  seen  ap- 
plauded, a  Majesty  not ;  then  insurrection  ;  want  of  due 
fiu-niture  in  Tuileries  Palace  ;  want  of  due  cash  in  Civil  List ; 
general  want  of  cash,  of  furniture  and  order  ;  anarchy  ever}'- 
where  :  Deficit  never  yet,  in  the  smallest,  '  choked  or  comhli : ' 
— wherefore  in  brief  his  Majesty  has  retired  towards  a  place  of 
Liberty  ;  and,  leaving  Sanctions,  Federation,  and  what  Oaths 
there  may  be,  to  shift  for  themselves,  does  now  refer — to 
what,  thinks  an  august  Assembly  ?  To  that  '  Declaration  of 
the  Twenty-third  of  June,'  with  its  '  Seid  ilfera,  He  alone  will 
make  his  People  happy.'  As  if  that  were  not  buried,  deep 
enough,  under  two  irrevocable  Twelvemonths,  and  the  wreck 
and  rubbish  of  a  whole  Feudal  World  !  This  strange  auto- 
gi-aph  Letter  the  National  Assembly  decides  on  printing  ;  on 
transmitting  to  the  Eighty-three  Departments,  with  exegeiic 
commentary,  short  but  pithy.  Commissioners  also  shall  go 
*Deux  Amis,  vi.  G7-178.  Toiilongeon,  ii.  1-88.  Camille,  Prud' 
homme  and  Editois  (in  Hist.  Tail.  x.  240-4). 


ATTITUDE.  433 

forQi  on  all  siJe3  ;  tlic  People  be  exhorted  ;  the  Armies  be  in- 
creased ;  care  taken  that  the  Commonweal  suffer  no  damage. 
— And  now,  with  a  sublime  air  of  calmness,  nay  of  indiffer* 
ence,  we  '  pass  to  the  order  of  the  day. ' 

By  such  subhme  calmness,  the  terror  of  the  People  is 
calmed.  These  gleaming  Pike-forests,  which  bristled  fateful 
in  the  early  sun,  disappear  again  ;  the  far-sounding  Street- 
orators  cease,  or  spout  milder.  We  are  to  have  a  civil  war  ; 
let  us  have  it  then.  The  King  is  gone  ;  but  National  As- 
sembly, but  France  and  we  remain.  Tha  People  also  takes  a 
great  attitude  ;  the  People  also  is  calm  ;  motionless  as  a 
couchant  lion.  With  but  a  few  broolings,  some  waggings  of 
the  tail  to  show  wdiat  it  lulU  do !  Cazaljs,  for  instance,  was 
beset  by  street-groups,  and  cries  of  Lanternc  ;  but  National 
Patrols  easily  delivered  him.  Likewise  all  King's  effigies  and 
statues,  at  least  stucco  ones,  get  abolished.  Even  King's 
names  ;  the  word  Roi  fades  suddenly  out  of  all  shop-signs  ;  the 
Royal  Bengal  Tiger  itself,  on  the  Boulevards,  becomes  the 
National  Bengal  one,  Tigre  National/-' 

How  great  is  a  calm  couchant  People  !  On  the  moiTow, 
men  will  say  to  one  another  :  "  We  have  no  King,  yet  we  slept 
sound  enough."  On  the  morrow,  fervent  Achille  de  ChAte- 
let,  and  Thomas  Paine  the  rebellious  Needleman,  shall  have 
the  walls  of  Paris  profusely  plastered  with  their  Placard ;  an- 
nouncing that  there  must  be  a  E('public.\  Need  we  add  that 
Lafayette  too,  though  at  first  menaced  by  Pikes,  has  taken  a 
great  attitude,  or  indeed  the  greatest  of  all?  Scouts  and 
Aides-de-camp  fly  forth,  vague,  in  quest  and  pursuit ;  young 
Komoeuf  towards  Valenciennes,  though  with  small  hope. 

Thus  Paris  ;  sublimely  calmed,  in  its  bereavement.  But 
from  the  Messageries  Royalea,  in  all  Mail-bags,  radiates  forth 
far-darting  the  electric  news  :  Our  Hereditary  Representative 
is  flown.  Laugh,  black  Royalists  :  yet  be  it  in  your  sleeve 
only  ;  lest  Patriotism  notice,  and  waxing  frantic,  lower  the 
Lanterne !  In  Paris  alone  is  a  sublime  National  Assembly 
with  its  calmness  ;  truly  other  places  must  take  it  as  they 
can  :  with  open  mouth  and  eyes,  with  panic  cackling,  with 
*  Walpoliana.  f  Dumont,  c.  16. 

Vol.  I.— 28 


4:34  VARENNES. 

wrath,  with  conjecture.  How  each  one  of  those  dull  leathei-n 
Diligences,  with  its  leathern  bag  and  '  The  King  is  fletl,'  fur- 
rows up  smooth  France  as  it  goes  ;  through  town  and  hamlet, 
rutaes  the  smooth  public  mind  into  quivering  agitation  of 
.death-terror  ;  then  lumbers  on,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  ! 
Along  all  highways  ;  towards  the  utmost  borders  ;  till  all 
France  is  ruffled, — roughened  uj)  (metaphorically  speaking) 
into  one  enormous,  desperate-minded,  red-guggling  Turkey 
Cock  ! 

For  example,  it  is  under  cloud  of  night  that  the  leathern 
Monster  reaches  Nantes  ;  deep  sunk  in  sleep.  The  word 
spoken  rouses  all  Patriot  men  :  General  Dumouriez,  envel- 
oped in  roquelaures,  has  to  descend  from  his  bedroom  ;  finds 
the  street  covered  with  '  four  or  five  thousand  citizens  in  their 
shirts.'*  Here  and  there  a  faint  farthing  rushlight,  hastily 
kindled ;  and  so  many  swart-featured  haggard  faces  with 
nightcaps  pushed  back  ;  and  the  more  or  less  flowing  drapery 
of  night-shirt ;  open  mouthed  till  the  General  say  his  word  ! 
And  overhead,  as  always,  the  Great  Bear  is  turning  so  quiet 
round  Bo5tes ;  steady,  indiffei-ent  as  the  leathern  diligence 
itself.  Take  comfort,  ye  men  of  Nantes;  Boutes  and  the 
steady  Bear  are  tm-ning ;  ancient  Atlantic  still  sends  his 
brine,  loud-billowing,  up  your  Loire-stream  ;  brandy  shall  be 
Lot  in  the  stomach  :  this  is  not  the  Last  of  the  Days,  but 
one  before  the  Last.— The  fools !  If  they  knew  what  was 
doing,  in  these  very  instants,  also  by  candle-light,  in  the  far 
North-East ! 

Perhaps,  we  may  say,  the  most  terrified  man  in  Paris  or 
France  is — who  thinks  the  Reader? — seagreen  Robespierre. 
Double  paleness,  with  the  shadow  of  gibbets  and  halters, 
overcasts  the  seagi-een  features :  it  is  too  clear  to  him  that 
there  is  to  be  '  a  Saint  Bartholomew  of  Patriots,'  that  in  four- 
and-twenty  hours  he  will  not  be  in  life.  These  horrid  antici- 
pations of  the  soul  he  is  heard  uttering  at  Potion's;  by  a 
notable  witness.  By  Madame  Roland,  namely ;  her  whom 
we  saw,  last  year,  radiant  at  the  Lyons  Federation.  These 
four  mouths,  the  Rolands  have  been  in  Paris  ;  arranging  ^^  itb 
*  Dumouriez,  M  moires,  ii.  100. 


THE  NEW  BERLINE.  435 

Assembly  Committees  the  Municipal  affairs  of  Lyons,  affaii-a 
all  sunk  iu  debt ; — communing,  the  while,  as  was  most  nat- 
ural, with  the  best  Patriots  to  be  found  here,  with  our  Bris- 
sots,  Petious,  Buzots,  Kobespierres :  who  were  wont  to  come 
to  us,  says  the  fair  Hostess,  four  evenings  in  the  week.  They, 
running  about,  busier  than  ever  this  day,  would  fain  have 
comforted  the  seagreen  man  ;  spake  of  Achille  du  Chatelet'a 
Placard  ;  of  a  Journal  to  be  called  The  Republican ;  of  pre- 
paring men's  minds  for  a  Kepublic.  "A  Repubuc ? "  said  the 
Seagreen,  with  one  of  his  dry  husky  K?isportful  laughs, 
"What  is  that?"*  O  seagi-een  Incorruptible,  thou  shalt 
see ! 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     NEW     BEKLINE. 


But  scouts,  all  this  while,  and  aides-de-camp,  have  flown 
forth  faster  than  the  leathern  Diligences.  Young  Romoeuf,  as 
we  said,  was  off  early  towards  Valenciennes  :  distracted  Vil- 
lagers seize  him,  as  a  traitor  with  a  finger  of  liis  own  in  the 
plot ;  drag  him  back  to  the  Townhall  ;  to  the  National  As- 
sembly, which  speedily  grants  a  new  passport.  Nay  now, 
that  same  scarecrow  of  an  Herbmerchant  with  his  ass  has  be- 
thought him  of  the  grand  new  Berline  seen  in  the  V^^ood  of 
Bondy  ;  and  delivered  evidence  of  it :  f  Romoeuf,  furnished 
with  new  passport,  is  sent  forth  with  double  speed  on  a  hoj^e- 
fuller  track  ;  by  Bondy,  Claye,  and  Chalons,  towards  Metz,  to 
track  the  new  Berline  ;  and  gallops  d  franc  etrier. 

Miserable  new  Berline !  Why  could  not  Royalty  go  in 
some  old  Berline  similar  to  that  of  other  men  ?  Flpng  for 
life,  one  does  not  stickle  about  his  vehicle.  Monsieur,  in  a 
commonplace  travelling-carriage,  is  off  Northwards  ;  Madame, 
his  Princess,  in  another,  wdth  variation  of  route  :  they  cross  one 
another  while  changing  horses,  without  look  of  recognition  ; 
and  reach  Flanders,  no  man  questioning  them.  Precisely  in 
the  same  manner,  beautiful  Princess  de  Lamballe  set  off 
*  Madame  Eoland,  ii.  TO. 
f  Moniteur,  &c.  (iu  Hist.  Pari.  x.  244-213). 


i36  VARE^'^'Es. 

about  the  same  hour  ;  and  will  reach  England  safe  :— would 
she  had  continued  there  !  The  beautiful,  the  good,  but  the 
unfortunate  ;  reserved  for  a  frightful  end  ! 

All  runs  along,  unmolested,  speedy,  except  only  the  new 
BerUne.  Huge  leathern  vehicle  : — huge  Argosy,  let  us  say, 
or  Acapulco-ship  ;  with  its  heavy  stern-boat  of  Chaise-and- 
pair  ;  with  its  three  yellow  Pilot-boats  of  mounted  Bodyguard 
Couriers,  rocking  aimless  round  it  and  ahead  of  it,  to  bewil- 
der, not  to  guide  !  It  lumbers  along,  lurchingly  with  stress, 
at  a  snail's  pace  ;  noted  of  all  the  world.  The  Bodyguard 
Couriers,  in  their  yellow  liveries,  go  prancing  and  clattering  ; 
loyal  but  stupid  ;  unacquainted  with  all  things.  Stoppages 
occur  ;  and  breakages  to  be  repaired  at  Etoges.  King  Louis 
too  will  dismount,  will  walk  up  hills,  and  enjoy  the  blessed 
sunshine  : — with  eleven  horses  and  double  drink  money,  and 
all  furtherances  of  Nature  and  Ai-t,  it  will  be  found  that 
Royalty,  flying  for  life,  accomplishes  Sixty-nine  miles  iu 
Twenty-two  incessant  hours.  Slow  Eoj^alty !  And  yet  not  a 
minute  of  these  hours  but  is  pi-ecious  :  on  minutes  hang  the 
destinies  of  Royalty  now. 

Readers,  therefore,  can  judge  iu  what  humour  Duke  de 
Choiseul  might  stand  waiting,  in  the  village  of  Pont-de-Som- 
mevelle,  some  leagues  beyond  Chalons,  hour  after  hour,  nov^r 
when  the  day  bends  visibly  westward.  Choiseul  drove  out  of 
Paris,  in  all  privity,  ten  hours  before  their  Majesties'  fixed  time  ; 
his  Hussars,  led  by  Engineer  Goguelat,  are  here  duly,  come 
'  to  escort  a  Treasure  that  is  expected  : '  but,  hour  after  hour, 
is  no  Baroness  de  Korffs  Berhue.  Indeed,  over  all  that 
North-east  Region,  on  the  skii-ts  of  Champagne  and  of  Lor- 
r.iine,  where  the  great  road  runs  the  agitation  is  considerable. 
For  all  along,  from  this  Pont-de-Sommevelle  Northeastward 
as  far  as  Montmedi,  at  Post-\-illages  and  Towns,  escorts  of 
Hussars  and  Dragoons  do  lounge  waiting  ;  a  train  or  chain 
of  Mihtary  Escorts  ;  at  the  Montmedi  end  of  it  our  brave 
Bouill' :  an  electric  thunder-chain;  which  the  invisible 
BouiU'-,  like  a  Father  Jove,  holds  iu  his  hand— for  wise  pm-- 
poses  !     Brave  Bouill'-  has  done  what  man  could  ;  has  spread 


THE  NEW  BERLINE.  437 

out  liis  electric  thunder-chain  of  Military  Escorts,  onwards  to 
the  threshold  of  Chalons :  it  waits  but  for  the  new  Korff 
Berline  ;  to  receive  it,  escort  it,  and,  if  need  be,  bear  it  olf 
in  whirlwind  of  military  fire.  They  lie  and  lounge  there,  we 
ryiy,  these  fierce  Troopers ;  from  Montmodi  and  Stenai, 
through  Clermont,  Sainte-Menehould  to  utmost  Pout-de- 
Sommevelle,  in  all  Post-villages  ;  for  the  route  shall  avoid 
Verdun  and  great  Towns  :  tliey  loiter  impatient,  '  till  the 
Treasure  arrive.' 

Judge  what  a  day  this  is  for  brave  Bouille  :  perhaps  the 
first  day  of  a  new  glorious  life  ;  surely  the  last  day  of  the  old  ! 
Also,  and  indeed  still  more,  what  a  day,  beautiful  and  terrible, 
for  your  young  full-blooded  Captains  :  your  Daudoins,  Comte 
de  Daraas,  Dake  de  Choiseul,  Engineer  Goguelat,  and  the 
like  ;  entrusted  with  the  secret ! — Alas,  the  day  bends  ever  more 
westward  ;  and  no  Korff  Berhne  comes  to  sight.  It  is  four 
hours  beyond  the  time,  and  still  no  Berline.  In  all  Village 
streets.  Royalist  Captains  go  lounging,  looking  often  Paris- 
ward  ;  with  face  of  unconcern,  with  heart  full  of  black  care  : 
rigorous  Quartermasters  can  hardly  keep  the  private  dragoons 
from  cjfes  and  dramshops.*  Dawn  on  our  bewilderment, 
thou  new  Berline  ;  dawn  on  us,  thou  Sun-chariot  of  a  new 
Berline,  with  the  destinies  of  France  ! 

It  was  of  His  Majesty's  ordering,  this  military  array  of 
Escorts,  a  thing  solacing  the  Eoyal  imagination  with  a  look 
of  security  and  rescue  ;  yet,  in  reality,  creating  only  alarm, 
and,  where  there  was  otherwise  no  danger,  danger  mthout 
end.  For  each  Patriot,  in  these  Post-villages,  asks  naturally  : 
This  clatter  of  cavalry,  and  marching  and  lounging  of  troops, 
what  means  it  ?  To  escort  a  Treasure  ?  Why  escort,  when 
no  Patriot  will  steal  from  the  Nation  ;  or  where  is  your 
Treasure  ? — There  has  been  such  marching  and  counter- 
marching :  for  it  is  another  fatality,  that  certain  of  these  jMili- 
tary  Escorts  came  out  so  early  as  yesterday  ;  the  Nineteenth, 
not  the  Twentieth  of  the  month  being  the  (\s\;^  fird  appointed, 
which  her  Majesty,  for  some  necessity  or  other,  saw  good  to 

*D'claration  du  Sieur  La  Gache,  du  R'giment  Royal-Dragons  (ia 
Choiseul,  p.  125-39). 


^28  VARENNES. 

alter.  And  now  consiiler  the  suspicious  nature  of  Patriotism, 
suspicious,  above  all,  of  Bouillc  the  Ai-istocrat  ;  and  how  the 
sour  doubting  humour  has  had  leave  to  accumulate  and  ex- 
acerbate for  four-aud-twenty  hours ! 

At  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  these  Forty  foreign  Hussars  of  Go- 
guelat  and  Duke  Choiseul  are  becoming  an  unspeakable  mys- 
tery to  all  men.  They  lounged  long  enough,  already,  at 
Saiute-Menehould  ;  lounged  and  loitered  till  our  National  Vol- 
unteers there,  all  risen  into  hot  wrath  of  doubt,  '  demanded 
three  hundred  fusils  of  their  Townhal],'  and  got  them.  At 
which  same  moment  too,  as  it  chanced,  our  Captain  Dandoins 
was  just  coming  in,  from  Clermont  with  Mh  trooj),  at  the 
other  end  of  the  Village.  A  fresh  troop  ;  alarming  enough  ; 
though  happily  they  are  only  Dragoons  and  French  !  So  that 
Goguelat  with  his  Hussars  had  to  ride,  and  even  to  do  it  fast; 
till  here  at  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  where  Choiseul  lay  waiting,  he 
found  resting-i^lace.  Eesting-place  as  on  burning  marie.  For 
the  rumor  of  him  flies  abroad  ;  and  men  run  to  and  fro  in 
friglit  and  anger  :  Chalons  sends  forth  exj^loratory  pickets  of 
National  Volunteers  towards  this  hand  ;  which  meet  explora- 
tory pickets,  coming  from  Sainte-Menehould,  on  that.  What 
is  it,  ye  whiskered  Hussars,  men  of  foreign  guttural  speech  ; 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  is  it  that  brings  you  ?  A  Treas- 
ure ?— exploratory  pickets  shake  their  heads.  The  hungiy 
Peasants,  however,  know  too  well  what  Treasure  it  is :  Mili- 
tary seizure  for  rents,  feudalities  ;  which  no  Bailiff  coixld 
make  us  pay  !  This  they  know ;— and  set  to  jingling  their 
Parish-bell  by  way  of  tocsin  ;  with  rapid  effect !  Choiseul 
and  Goguelat,  if  the  whole  countiy  is  not  to  take  fire,  must 
needs,  be  there  Berline,  be  there  no  Berline,  saddle  and  ride. 

They  mount ;  and  this  parish  tocsin  happily  ceases.  They 
ride  slowly  Eastward,  towards  Sainte-Menehould  ;  still  hoi> 
ing  the  Sun-Chariot  of  a  Berline  may  overtake  them.  Ah  me, 
no  BerHue  !  And  near  now  is  that  Sainte-Menehould,  which 
expelled  us  in  the  morning,  with  its  three  hundred  National 
fusils  ;  which  looks,  belike,  not  too  lovingly  on  Ca^Dtain  Dan- 
doins and  his  fresh  Dragoons,  though  only  French  !— which, 
in  a  word  one  dai-e  not  enter  the  second  time,  under  pain  of 


OLD  DRAGOON  DROUET.  439 

explosion !  with  rather  heavy  heart,  our  Hussar  Party  strikes 
off  to  the  left ;  through  by-ways,  through  pathless  hills  anrl 
woods,  they,  avoiding  Sainte-Menehould  and  all  places  which 
have  seen  them  heretofore,  will  make  direct  for  the  distant 
Village  of  Varennes.  It  is  probable  they  will  have  a  rough 
evening-ride. 

This  first  military  post,  therefore,  in  the  long  thunder- 
chain,  has  gone  off  with  no  effect ;  or  with  worse,  and  your 
chain  threatens  to  entangle  itself  ! — The  Great  Road,  how- 
ever, is  got  hushed  again  into  a  kind  of  quietude,  though 
one  of  the  wakefullest.  Indolent  Dragoons  cannot,  by  acy 
Quartermaster,  be  kept  altogether  from  the  dramshop  ;  where 
Patriots  drink,  and  will  even  treat,  eager  enough  for  news. 
Captains,  in  a  state  near  distraction,  beat  the  dusty  highway, 
with  a  face  of  indifference  ;  and  no  Sun-Chariot  appears. 
Why  lingers  it?  Incredible,  that  with  eleven  horses,  and 
such  yellow  Couriers  and  furtherances,  its  rate  should  be 
under  the  weightiest  dray -rate,  some  three  miles  an  hour  ! 
Alas  !  one  knows  not  whether  it  ever  even  got  out  of  Paris  ; 
— and  yet  also  one  knows  not  whether,  at  this  verj'  moment, 
it  is  not  at  the  Village-end !  One's  heart  flutters  on  the  verge 
of  unutterabilities. 


CHAPTER  VI 

OLD    DRAGOON    DROUET. 


In  this  manner,  however,  has  the  Day  bent  downwards. 
"Wearied  mortals  are  creeping  home  from  their  field-labour  ; 
the  village-artisan  eats  with  relish  his  supper  of  herbs,  or  has 
strolled  forth  to  the  village-street  for  a  sweet  mouthful  ol  air 
and  human  news.  Still  summer-even-tide  everywhere  !  The 
great  Sun  hangs  flaming  on  the  utmost  North-West  ;  for  it  is 
his  longest  day  this  year.  The  hill-tops  rejoicing  will  ere  long 
be  at  their  ruddiest,  and  blush  Good-night.  The  thrush,  in 
green  dells,  on  long-shadowed  leafy  spray,  pours  gushing  its 
glad  serenade,  to  the  babble  of  brooks  grown  audibler  ;  silence 
is  stealing  over  the  Earth.  Your  dusty  Mill  of  Valmj^  as  all 
other   mills  and  drudgeries,  may  furl  its  canvas,  and  cease 


440  VARENEIfS. 

swashing  and  circling.  The  swenkt  giinders  in  this  Treadmill 
of  an  Earth  have  ground  out  another  Day  ;  and  lounge  there, 
as  we  say,  in  village-groups  ;  movable,  or  ranked  on  social 
stone-seats  ;  *  their  childi'en,  mischievous  imps,  sporting  about 
theii-  feet.  Unnotable  hum  of  sweet  human  gossip  rises  from 
this  Village  of  Sainte-Menehould,  as  from  all  other  villages. 
Gossij)  mostly  sweet,  unnotable  ;  for  the  very  Dragoons  are 
French  and  gallant ;  nor  as  yet  has  the  Paris-and- Verdun 
DiHgence,  with  its  leathern  bag,  rumbled  in,  to  terrify  the 
minds  of  men. 

One  figure  nevertheless  we  do  note  at  the  last  door  of  the 
Village :  that  figure  in  loose-flowing  nightgown,  of  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  Drouet,  Master  of  the  Post  here.  An  acrid  choleric  man, 
rather  dangerous-looking  ;  still  in  the  prime  of  Hfe,  though  he 
has  served,  in  his  time,  as  a  Conde  Dragoon.  This  day  from 
an  early  hour,  Drouet  got  his  choler  stiiTed,  and  has  been 
kept  fretting.  Hussar  Goguelat  in  the  morning  saw  good,  by 
way  of  thrift,  to  bargain  with  his  ovm  Innkeeper,  not  with 
Drouet  regular  MaUre  de  Po!<te,  about  some  gig-horso  for  the 
sending  back  of  his  gig  ;  which  thing  Drouet  jierceiving  came 
over  in  red  ire,  menacing  the  Innkeeper,  and  would  not  be  ajj- 
peased.  Wholly  an  unsatisfactory  day.  For  Drouet  is  an 
acrid  Patriot  too,  was  at  the  Paris  Feast  of  Pikes  :  and  what 
do  these  Bouille  soldiers  mean  ?  Hussars, — with  their  gig, 
and  a  vengeance  to  it ! — have  hardly  been  thrust  out,  when 
Dandoins  and  his  fre.sli  Dragoons  arrived  from  Clermont,  and 
stroll.  For  what  purpose  ?  Choleric  Drouet  stejis  out  and 
steps  in,  with  long-flowing  nightgown  ;  looking  abroad,  with 
that  shai-pness  of  faculty  which  stirred  choler  gives  to  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  mark  Captain  Dandoins  on  the  street 
of  that  same  Village  ;  sauntering  with  a  face  of  indifference,  a 
haart  eaten  of  black  care  !  For  no  Korff  Berline  makes  its 
appearance.  The  gi-eat  Sun  flames  broader  towards  setting : 
one's  heart  flutters  on  the  verge  of  dread  unutterabihties. 

By  Heaven  !  Here  is  the  yellow  Bodyguard  Courier  ;  spur- 
ring fast,  in  the  ruddy  evening  light !  Steady,  O  Dandoins, 
stand  with  inscrutable  indifferent  face  ;  though  the  yello\« 
*  Rappoit  de  Sr.  Rcmy  (in  Choiseul,  p.  143). 


OLD  DRAGOON  DROUET.  Ml 

■blockhead  spiirs  past  the  Post-house  ;  mquires  to  find  it ;  and 
stu-s  the  Village,  all  delighted  with  his  fine  hvery. — Lumber- 
ing along  with  its  mountains  of  bandboxes,  and  Chaise  behind, 
the  Korff  Berline  rolls  in  ;  huge  Acapulco-ship  with  its  Cock- 
boat, having  got  thus  far.  The  eyes  of  the  Villagers  look  en- 
lightened, as  such  eyes  do  when  a  coach-transit,  which  is  an 
event,  occurs  for  them,  Strolhng  Dragoons  respectfully,  so 
fine  are  the  yellow  liveries,  bring  hand  to  helmet ;  and  a  Lady 
in  gipsy-hat  responds  with  a  grace  peculiar  to  her.*  Dan- 
doins  stands  with  folded  arms,  and  what  look  of  indifference 
and  disdainful  garrison-air  a  man  can,  while  the  heart  is  like 
leaping  out  of  him.  Curled  disdainful  moustachio  ;  careless 
glance, — which  however  surveys  the  Village-groups,  and  does 
not  like  them.  With  his  eye  he  bespeaks  the  yellow  Courier, 
Be  quick,  be  quick!  Thick-headed  Yellow  cannot  under- 
stand the  eye  ;  comes  up  mumbhng,  to  ask  in  words  :  seen  of 
the  Village  ! 

Nor  is  Post-master  Drouet  unobservant,  all  this  while  ;  but 
steps  out  and  steps  in,  with  his  long-flowing  nightgown,  in  the 
lavel  sunhght ;  prying  into  several  things.  When  a  man's 
facuhies,  at  the  right  time,  are  sharpened  by  choler,  it  may 
lead  to  much.  That  Lady  in  slouched  gipsy-hat,  though  sit- 
ting back  in  the  Carriage,  does  she  not  resemble  some  one  we 
have  seen,  some  time  ; — at  the  Feast  of  Pikes,  or  elsewhere  ? 
And  this  Grosse-Tete  in  round  hat  and  peruke,  which,  looking 
rearward,  pokes  itself  out  from  time  to  time,  methinks  there 

are  features  in  it ?     Quick,  Sieur  Guillaume,  Clerk  of  the 

Direcloire,  bring  me  a  new  Assignat !  Drouet  scans  the  new 
Assignat ;  compares  the  Paper-money  Picture  with  the  Gross- 
Head  in  round  hat  there  :  by  Day  and  Night !  you  might  say 
the  one  w\as  an  attempted  Engraving  of  the  other.  And  this 
march  of  Troops  ;  this  sauntering  and  whispering,— I  see  it ! 

Drouet  Post-master  of  this  Village,  hot  Patriot,  Old-Dragoon 
of  Conde,  consider,  therefore,  what  thou  w^ilt  do.  And  fast, 
for  behold  the  new  Berline,  expeditiously  yoked,  cracks  whip- 
cord, and  rolls  away  ! — Drouet  dare  not  on  the  spur  of  the 
instant,  clutch  the  bridles  in  his  own  two  hands  ;  Dandoina, 
*  Declaration  de  La  Cache  (_iii  C'lioiseul  itbi  sKprd). 


44:2  VARENNE8. 

with  broad-sword,  might  hew  you  off.  Our  poor  Nationals, 
not  one  of  them  here,  have  three  hundred  fusils,  but  then  no 
powder  ;  besides,  one  is  not  sure,  only  morally-certain.  Drouet, 
as  an  adroit  Old-Dragoon  of  Conde,  does  what  is  advisablest : 
privily  bespeaks  Clerk  Guiilaume,  Old-Dragoon  of  Condc  he 
too  ;  privily,  while  Clerk  Guiilaume  is  saddling  two  of  the 
fleetest  horses,  slips  over  to  the  Townhall  to  whisper  a  word ; 
then  mounts  with  Clerk  Guiilaume  ;  and  the  two  bound  east- 
ward in  pursuit,  to  see  what  can  be  done. 

They  bound  eastward,  in  sharp  trot ;  their  moral-certainty 
permeating  the  Village,  from  the  Townhall  outwards,  in  busy 
whispers.  Alas  !  Captain  Dandoins  orders  his  Dragoons  to 
mount  ;  but  they,  complaining  of  long  fast,  demand  bread- 
and-cheese  first  ; — before  which  brief  repast  can  be  eaten,  the 
whole  village  is  permeated  ;  not  whisiDering  now,  but  blustering 
and  shrieking !  National  Volunteers,  in  hurried  muster,  shriek 
for  gunpowder  ;  Dragoons  halt  between  Patriotism  and  Eule 
of  the  Service,  between  bread-and-cheese  and  fixed  Bayonets : 
Dandoins  hands  secretly  his  Pocket-book,  with  its  secret  de- 
spatches, to  the  rigorous  Quartermaster  :  the  very  Ostlers  have 
stable-forks  o,nd  flails.  The  rigorous  Quartermaster,  half-sad- 
dled, cuts  out  his  way  with  the  sword's  edge,  amid  levelled 
bayonets,  amid  Patriot  vociferations,  adjurations,  flail-strokes  ; 
and  rides  frantic  ;  * — few  or  even  none  following  him  ;  the 
rest,  so  sweetly  constrained,  consenting  to  stay  there. 

And  thus  the  new  Berline  rolls  ;  and  Drouet  and  Guiilaume 
galloiD  after  it,  and  Dandoins's  Troopers  or  Trooper  gallops 
after  them  ;  and  Sainte-Menehould,  with  some  leagues  of  the 
King's  Highway,  is  in  explosion  ; — and  your  Mihtary  thunder- 
chain  has  gone  off  in  a  self-destructive  manner ;  one  may  fear 
with  the  frightfuUest  issues  ! 

*  Declaration  de  La  Cache  (iu  Clioiseul),  p.  134. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  SPVliS.  443 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

THE    NIGHT     OF     SPTJKS. 

This  comes  of  mj'sterious  Escorts,  and  a  new  Beiiine  with 
eleven  horses  :  '  he  that  has  a  secret  should  not  only  hide  ir, 
but  hide  that  he  has  it  to  hide.'  Your  first  Military  Escort 
has  exploded  self-destructive  ;  and  all  Military  Escorts,  and  a 
suspicious  Country,  will  novf  be  ujd,  explosive  ;  comiDarable 
not  to  victorious  thunder.  Comparable,  say  rather,  to  the  first 
stirring  of  an  Alpine  Avalanche  ;  which,  once  stir  it,  as  here  at 
Saiute-Menehould,  will  spread, — all  round,  and  on  and  on,  as 
far  as  Stenai ;  thundering  with  wild  ruin,  till  Patriot  Villagers, 
Peasantry,  Military  Escorts,  new  Beiiine  and  Royalty  are 
down,— jumbling  in  the  Abyss  ! 

The  thick  shades  of  Night  are  falling.  Postilions  crack  and 
whip  :  the  Royal  Berline  is  through  Clermont,  where  Colonel 
Comte  de  Damas  got  a  word  whispered  to  it ;  is  safe  through, 
towards  Varennes ;  rushing  at  the  rate  of  double  drink-money : 
an  Unknown,  '  Inconnu  on  horseback,'  shrieks  earnestly  some 
hoarse  whisper,  not  audible,  into  the  nishing  Carriage-window, 
and  vanishes,  left  in  the  night.*  August  Travellers  palpitate ; 
nevertheless  overwearied  Nature  sinks  every  one  of  them  into 
a  kind  of  sleep.  Alas,  and  Drouet  and  Clerk  GuiUaume  sjDur ; 
taking  side-roads,  for  shortness,  for  safety  ;  scattering  abroad 
that  moral  certainty  of  theirs  ;  which  flies,  a  bird  of  the  air 
carrying  it ! 

And  your  rigorous  Quartermaster  spurs  ;  awakening  hoarse 
trumpet-tone, — as  here  at  Clermont,  calling  out  Dragoons 
gone  to  bed.  Brave  Colonel  de  Damas  has  them  mounted, 
in  part,  these  Clermont  men  ;  young  Cornet  Remy  dashes  oflf 
with  a  few.  But  the  Patriot  Magistracy  is  out  here  at  Cler- 
mont too  ;  National  Guards  shrieking  for  ball-cartridges  ;  and 
the  village  '  illuminates  itself  ; ' — deft  Patriots  sj)ringing  out 
of  bed  ;  alertly,  in  shirt  or  shift,  striking  a  light ;  sticking  up 
each  his  farthing  candle,  or  penurious  oil-cruse,  till  all  glit- 
*  Caiupan,  ii.  159. 


444  VAREKNES. 

ters  and  glimmers  ;  so  deft  are  they  !  A  camimdo,  or  shirt- 
tumult,  everywhere  :  storm-bell  set  a-ringing  ;  village-drum 
beating  furious  gmerale,  as  here  at  Clermont,  under  illumina- 
tion ;  distracted  Patriots  pleading  and  menacing !  Brave 
young  Colonel  de  Damas,  in  that  ujoroar  of  distracted  Patriot- 
ism, speaks  some  fire-sentences  to  what  Troopers  he  has  : 
"  Comrades  insulted  at  Sainte-Menehould  ;  King  and  Country 
calling  on  the  brave  ; "  then  gives  the  fireword,  Drcno  swords: 
Whereupon,  alas,  the  Troopers  only  smite  their  sword-handles, 
driving  them  further  home  !  "  To  me,  whoever  is  for  the 
King  !  "  cries  Damas  in  despair  ;  and  gallops,  he  with  some 
poor  loyal  Two  of  the  subaltern  sort,  into  the  bosom  of  the 
Night.* 

Night  unexampled  in  the  Clermontais  ;  shortest  of  the  year ; 
remarkablest  of  the  century  :  Night  deserving  to  be  named  of 
Spurs  !  Cornet  Remy,  and  those  Few  he  dashed  off  with, 
has  missed  his  road  ;  is  galloping  for  hours  towards  Verdun  ; 
then  for  hours,  across  hedged  country,  through  roused  ham- 
lets, towards  Varennes.  Unlucky  Cornet  Eemy  ;  unluckier 
Colonel  Damas,  with  whom  there  ride  desperate  only  some 
loyal  Two  !  More  ride  not  of  that  Clermont  Escort :  of  other 
Escorts,  in  other  Villages,  not  even  Two  may  ride  ;  but  only 
all  curvet  and  pi'auce, — impeded  by  storm-bell  and  your  Vil- 
lage illuminating  itself. 

And  Drouet  lides  and  Clerk  Guillaume  ;  and  the  Country 
runs, — Goguelat  and  Duke  Choiseul  are  plunging  through 
morasses,  over  cliffs,  over  stock  and  stone,  in  the  shaggy 
woods  of  the  Clermontais ;  by  tracks  ;  or  trackless,  with 
guides  ;  Hussars  tumbling  into  pitfalls,  and  lying  '  swooned 
three  quarters  of  an  hour,'  the  rest  refusing  to  march  without 
them.  What  an  evening-ride  from  Pont-de-Sommevelle ; 
what  a  thirty  hours,  since  Choiseul  quitted  Paris,  with 
Queen's-valet  Leonard  in  the  chaise  by  him  !  Black  Care 
sits  behind  the  rider.  Thus  go  they  plunging  ;  rustle  the 
owlet  fi'om  his  branchy  nest ;  champ  the  sweet-scented  for- 
est-herb, queen-of-the-meadows  spilling  her  spikenard  ;  and 
frighten  the  ear  of  Night.     But  hark  !  towards  twelve  o'clock, 

*  Pi oces- verbal  <lii  Direftoiio  do  Clermont   in  Choiseul,  j-).  189-05). 


THE  NIGHT  OB'  SrURS.  445 

as  one  guesses,  for  the  very  stars  liave  gone  out :  sounds  of 
the  tocsin  from  Vareunes  ?  Checking  bridle,  the  Hussar 
Officer  Hstens  :  "  Some  fire,  undoubtedly  !  " — yet  rides  on, 
with  double  breathlessness,  to  verify. 

Yes,  gallant  friends  that  do  your  utmost,  it  is  a  certain  sort 
of  fire  :  diffictdt  to  quench. — The  Korff  Berline,  fairly  ahead 
of  all  this  riding  Avalanche,  reached  the  little  paltry  Village 
of  Varennes  about  eleven  o'clock  ;  hopeful  in  spite  of  that 
hoarse-whispering  Unknown.  Do  not  all  Towns  now  lie  be- 
hind us ;  Verdun  avoided,  on  our  right  ?  Within  wind  of 
Bouille  himself,  in  a  manner  ;  and  the  darkest  of  mid-sum- 
mer nights  favouring  us !  And  so  we  halt  on  the  hill-toj)  at 
the  South  end  of  the  Village  ;  expecting  our  relay ;  which 
young  BouillJ',  Bouillj's  own  son,  with  his  Escort  of  Hussars, 
was  to  have  ready  :  for  in  this  Village  is  no  Post.  Distract- 
ing to  think  of :  neither  horse  nor  Hussar  is  here  !  Ah,  and 
stout  horses,  a  proper  relay  belonging  to  Duke  Choiseul,  do 
stand  at  hay,  but  in  the  Upper  Village  over  the  Bridge  ;  and 
and  we  know  not  of  them.  Hussars  likewise  do  wait,  but 
drinking  in  the  taverns.  For  indeed  it  is  six  hours  beyond 
the  time  ;  young  Bouill^',  silly  striiDling,  thinking  the  matter 
over  for  this  night,  has  retired  to  bed.  And  so  our  yellow 
Couriers,  inexperienced,  must  rove,  groping,  bungling,  through 
a  Village  mostly  asleep  :  PostiHons  will  not,  for  any  money, 
go  on  with  the  tired  horses  ;  not  at  least  without  refresh- 
ment ;  not  they,  let  the  Valet  in  round  hat  argue  as  he  likes. 

Miserable  !  '  For  five-and-thirty  minutes '  by  the  King's 
watch,  the  Berline  is  at  a  dead  stand  ;  Eouud-hat  arguing 
with  Churn-boots ;  tired  horses  slobbering  their  meal-and- 
water ;  yellow  Couriers  groping,  bungling  ; — young  Bouill'' 
asleep,  all  the  while,  in  the  Uj^per  Village,  and  Choiseul's  fine 
team  standing  there  at  hay.  No  help  for  it ;  not  with  a  King's 
r?insom  ;  the  horses  dehberately  slobber,  Eound-hat  argues, 
Bouille  sleeps.  And  mark  now,  in  the  thick  night,  do  not  two 
Horsemen,  with  jaded  trot,  come  clank-clanking  ;  and  start 
with  half-pause,  if  one  noticed  them  at  sight  of  this  dim  mass 
of  a  Berline,  and  its  dull  slobbering  and  arguing  ;  then  i^rirk 
off  faster,  into  the  Village  ?     It  is  Drouct,  he  and  Clerk  Guil- 


446  VARENNES. 

laume  !  Still  ahead,  they  two,  of  the  whole  riding  hurl}-, 
burly  ;  unshot,  though  some  brag  of  having  chased  them. 
Perilous  is  Drouet's  errand  also  ;  but  he  is  an  Old  Dragoon, 
with  his  wits  shaken  thoroughly  awake. 

The  Village  of  Varennes  lies  dark  and  slumberous  ;  a  most 
unlevel  village,  of  inverse  saddle-shape,  as  men  write.  It 
sleeps  ;  the  rushing  of  the  River  Aire  singing  lullaby  to  it. 
Nevertheless  from  the  Golden  Arm,  Bras  cVOr  Tavern,  across 
that  sloping  Marketplace,  there  still  comes  shine  of  social 
light ;  comes  voice  of  rude  drovers,  or  the  like,  who  have  not 
yet  taken  the  stirrup-cup  ;  Boniface  Le  Blanc,  in  white  apron 
serving  them  :  cheerfid  to  behold.  To  this  Bras  d'Or,  Drouet 
enters,  alacrity  looking  through  his  eyes  ;  he  nudges  Boniface, 
ia  all  privacy,  "  Camarade,  es-ta  hon  Patriote,  Art  thou  a  good 
Patriot  ?  "— "  Sije  Suis  !  "  answers  Boniface. — "  In  that  case," 
eagerly  whispers  Drouet — what  whisper  is  needful,  heard  of 
Boniface  alone.* 

And  now  see  Boniface  Le  Blanc  bustling,  as  he  never  did 
for  the  jolliest  toper.  See  Drouet  and  Guillaume,  dexterous 
Old  Dragoons,  instantly  down  blocking  the  Bridge,  with  a 
'  furniture- wagon  they  find  there,'  with  whatever  wagons, 
t  ambrils,  baiTcls,  baiTOWs  their  hands  can  lay  hold  of ; — till 
no  carriage  can  pass.  Then  swiftly,  the  Bridge  once  blocked, 
see  them  take  station  hard  by,  under  Yarennes  Archway  : 
joined  by  Le  Blanc,  Le  Banc's  Brother,  and  one  or  two  alert 
Patriots  he  has  roused.  Some  half-dozen  in  all,  with  Na- 
tional muskets,  they  stand  close,  waiting  under  the  Archway 
till  that  same  Ivorff  Berline  mmble  up. 

It  rumbles  up  :  Alle  LI  !  lanterns  flash  out  from  under  coat- 
skirts,  bridles  chuck  in  strong  fists,  two  National  muskets 
level  themselves  fore  and  aft  through  the  two  Coach-doors  : 
"Mesdames,  your  Passports  ?  "—Alas !  Alas!  Sieur  Sausse, 
Procureur  of  the  Township,  Tallow-chandler  also  and  Grocer 
i ;  there,  with  oflScial  grocer-politeness  ;  Drouet  with  fierce 
logic  and  ready  wit :— The  respected  Travelling  Party,  be  it 
Baroness  de  Korff's,  or  persons  of  still  higher  consequence, 

*  Deux  Amis,  vi.  lo9-T8. 


TEE  NIGllT  OF  SPURS.  4-i7 

will  perhaps  please  to  rest  itself  in  M.  Sausse's  till  tlic  elav.ii 
strike  up  ! 

O  Louis  ;  O  hapless  Marie- Antoinette,  fated  to  pass  thy  life 
\i\t\x  such  men  !  Phlegmatic  Louis,  art  thou  but  lazy  semi- 
animate  phlegm  then,  to  the  centre  of  thee  ?  King,  Captain- 
General,  Sovereign  Frank !  if  tby  heart  ever  formed,  since  it 
began  beating  under  the  name  of  heart,  any  resolution  at  all, 
be  it  now  then,  or  never  in  this  world  : — "Violent  noctui-nal 
individuals,  and  if  it  were  persons  of  high  consequence  ?  And 
if  it  were  the  King  himself  ?  Has  the  King  not  the  power, 
which  all  beggars  have,  of  travelling  unmolested  on  his  own 
highway  ?  Yes  :  it  is  the  King  ;  and  tremble  ye  to  know  it ! 
The  King  has  said  in  this  one  small  matter  ;  and  in  France, 
or  under  God's  Throne,  is  no  power  that  shall  gainsay.  Not 
the  King  shall  ye  stop  here  under  this  your  miserable  Arch- 
way ;  but  his  dead  body  only,  and  answer  it  to  Heaven  and 
Earth.  To  me.  Bodyguards  ;  Postilions,  en  avant !  ' — One 
fancies  in  that  case  the  pale  paralysis  of  these  two  Le  Blanc 
musqueteers  ;  the  drooping  of  Drouet's  under-jaw  ;  and  how 
Procureur  Sausse  had  melted  like  tallow  in  fm-nace-heat : 
Louis  faring  on  ;  in  some  few  steps  awakening  Young  Bouille, 
awakening  relays  and  Hussars  :  triumphant  entry,  with  caval- 
cading  high-brandishing  Escort,  and  Escorts,  into  Montmedi ; 
and  the  whole  course  of  French  History  different ! 

Alas,  it  was  not  in  the  poor  phlegmatic  man.  Had  it  been 
in  him,  French  History  had  never  come  under  this  Varennes 
Archway  to  decide  itself. — He  steps  out ;  all  step  out.  Pro- 
cui-eur  Sausse  gives  his  grocer-arms  to  the  Queen  and  Sister 
Elizabeth  ;  Majesty  taking  the  two  children  by  the  hand. 
And  thus  they  walk,  cooUy  back,  over  the  Marketplace,  to 
Porcureur  Sausse's ;  mount  into  his  small  upper  stoiy  ;  where 
straightway  his  Majesty  'demands  refreshments.'  Demands 
refreshments,  as  is  written  ;  gets  bread-and-cheese  with  a  bot- 
tle of  Burg-undy  ;  and  remarks,  that  it  is  the  best  Burgundy 
he  ever  drank ! 

Meanwhile,  the  Varennes  Notables,  and  all  men,  ofScial  and 
ncn-official,  are  hastily  drawing  on  their  breeches ;  getting 
their  fighting  gear.      Mortals  half-dressed  tumble   out  bar* 


4  IS  VAiinjyyES. 

rels,  lay  felled  ti'ees  ;  scouts  dart  off  to  all  the  four  winds,— ^ 
the  tocsin  begins  clanging,  '  the  Village  illuminates  itself.' 
Very  singular  :  how  these  little  Villages  do  manage,  so  adroit 
are  they,  when  startled  in  midnight  alarm  of  war.  Like  little 
adroit  municipal  rattlesnakes,  suddenly  awakened  :  for  their 
storm-bell  rattles  and  rings  ;  their  eyes  glisten  luminous  (wit'i 
tallow  light),  as  in  rattlesnake  ire  ;  and  the  Village  will  fdiiu/. 
Old-Dragoon  Drouet  is  our  engineer  and  generalissimo  ;  vali- 
ant as  a  Ruy  Diaz  : — Now  or  never,  ye  Patriots,  for  the  sol- 
diery is  coming  ;  massacre  by  Austrians,  by  Aristocrats,  wars 
more  than  civil,  it  all  depends  on  you  and  the  hour ! — Na- 
tional Guards  rank  themselves,  half-buttoned  :  mortals,  we 
say,  still  only  in  breeches,  in  under-jDetticoat,  tumble  out  bar- 
rels and  lumber,  lay  felled  trees  for  barricades  :  the  Village 
will  sting.  Kabid  Democracy,  it  would  seem,  is  not  confined 
to  Paris,  then  ?  Ah  no  :  whatsoever  Courtiers  might  talk  ; 
too  clearly  no.  This  of  dying  for  one's  King,  is  grown  into  a 
dying  for  one's  self,  against  the  King,  if  need  be. 

And  so  our  riding  and  running  Avalanche  and  Hurlyburly 
has  reached  the  Abyss,  Korff  Berline  foremost ;  and  may  pour 
itself  thither,  and  jumble  :  endless  !  For  the  next  six  hours, 
need  Ave  ask  if  there  was  a  clattering  far  and  wide  ?  Clatter- 
ing and  tocsining  and  hot  tumult,  over  all  the  Clermontais, 
spreading  through  the  Three  Bishopricks  :  Dragoon  and  Hus- 
sar Troops  galloi:)ing  on  roads  and  no-roads  ;  National  Guards 
arming  and  starting  in  the  dead  of  night  ;  tocsin  after  tocsin 
transmitting  the  alarm.  In  some  forty  minutes,  Goguelat 
and  Choisevd,  with  their  wearied  Hussars,  reach  Varennes, 
Ah,  it  is  no  fire  then  ;  or  a  fire  difficult  to  quench  !  They 
leap  the  tree-barricades,  in  sj^ite  of  National  seijeant ;  they 
enter  the  village,  Choiseul  instructing  his  Troopers  how  the 
matter  really  is  ;  who  respond  iutei*jectionally,  in  their  gut* 
tural  dialect,  "  Der  KOnig  ;  die  KOniginn  !  "  and  seem  staunch. 
These  now,  in  their  staunch  humour,  will,  for  one  thing,  be- 
set Procm-eur  Sausse's  house.  Most  beneficial  :  had  not 
Drouet  stormfully  ordered  otherwise  ;  and  even  bellowed,  in 
his  extremity,  "  Cannoneers,  to  your  guns  I  " — two  old  honey* 


THE  NIGHT  OF  SPURS.  449 

combed  Field-pieces,  emph'  of  all  but  cobwebs  ;  the  rattle 
whereof,  as  the  Cannoueers  with  assured  countenance  trundle 
them  up,  did  nevertheless  abate  the  Hussar  ardour,  and  pro- 
duce a  respectfuller  ranking  further  back.  Jugs  of  wine, 
handed  over  the  ranks,  for  the  German  throat  too  has  sensi- 
bility, will  complete  the  business.  When  Engineer  Goguelat, 
some  hour  or  so  afterwards,  steps  forth,  the  response  to  him 
is — a  hiccuping  Vive  la  Nation  I 

What  boots  it  ?  Goguelat,  Choiseul,  now  also  Count  Da- 
mas,  and  all  the  Varennes  Officiality  are  with  the  King ;  and 
the  King  can  give  no  order,  form  no  opinion  ;  but  sits  there, 
as  he  has  ever  done,  like  clay  on  potter's  wheel  ;  perhaps  the 
absurdest  of  all  pitiable  and  pardonable  clay-figures  that  now 
circle  iinder  the-  Moon.  He  will  go  on,  next  morning,  and 
take  the  National  Guard  with  him  ;  Sausse  permitting !  Hap- 
less Queen  :  with  her  two  children  laid  there  on  the  mean 
bed,  old  Mother  Sausse  kneeling  to  Heaven,  with  tears  and 
an  audible  prayer,  to  bless  them  ;  imperial  Marie-Antoinette 
near  kneeling  to  Son  Sausse  and  Wife  Sausse,  amid  candle- 
boxes  and  treacle-barrels, — in  vain  !  There  are  Three-thou- 
sand National  Guards  got  in  ;  before  long  they  will  count  Ten- 
thousand  ;  tocsins  spreading  like  fire  on  dry  heath,  or  far 
faster. 

Young  Bouillc,  roused  by  this  Varennes  tocsin,  has  taken 
horse,  and — fled  towards  his  Father.  Thitherward  also  rides 
in  an  almost  hysterically  desperate  manner,  a  certain  Sieur 
Aubriot,  Choiseul's  Orderly  ;  swimming  dark  rivers,  our 
Bridge  being  blocked  ;  spurring  as  if  the  Hell-hunt  were  at  his 
heels.*  Through  the  village  of  Dun,  he  galloping  still  on, 
scatters  the  alarm  ;  at  Dun,  brave  Captain  Deslons  and  his 
Escort  of  a  Hundred,  saddle  and  ride.  Deslons  too  gets  into 
Varennes  ;  lea^ang  his  Hundred  outside,  at  the  tree-barricade ; 
offers  to  cut  King  Louis  out,  if  he  will  order  it :  but  unfortu- 
nately "  the  work  idll  prove  hot ;  "  whereupon  King  Louis  has 
"no  orders  to  give."f 

And  so  the  tocsin  clangs,  and  Dragoons  gallop ;  and  can 

*  Rapport  de  M.  Aubriot  'in  Chois»^ul,  p.  150-7). 
f  Extrait  d'un  Rapport  de  M.  Deslons  (Choiseul,  p.  164-7). 
Vol.  I— 29 


450  VARENNE8. 

do  nothing,  ha^'ing  galloped  :  National  Guards  stream  in  like 
the  gathering  of  ravens  :  your  exploding  Thunder-chain,  fall- 
ing Avalanche,  or  what  else  we  liken  it  to,  does  play,  with  a 
vengeance,— up  now  as  far  as  Stenai  and  Bouille  himself.* 
Brave  Bouille,  son  of  the  whirlwind,  he  saddles  Koyal-Alle- 
mand  ;  speaks  fire-words,  kindling  heart  and  eyes  ;  distributes 
twenty-five  gold-louis  a  company  : — Kide,  Koyal-Allemand, 
long-famed  :  no  Tuileries  Charge  and  Necker-Orleans  Bust- 
Procession  ;  a  very  King  made  captive,  and  world  all  to  vmv  ! 
— Such  is  the  Night  deserAing  to  be  named  of  Spui-s. 

At  six  o'clock  two  things  have  happened.  Lafayette's  Aide- 
de-camp,  Romoeuf ,  riding  a  franc  etrier,  on  that  old  Herb-mer- 
chant's route,  quickened  during  the  last  stages,  has  got  to  Va- 
rennes  ;  where  the  Ten-thousand  now  furiously  demand,  with 
fury  of  panic  terror,  that  Royalty  shall  forthwith  return  Paris- 
ward,  that  there  be  not  infinite  bloodshed.  Also,  on  the 
other  side,  'English  Tom,'  Choiseul's  Jokci,  flying  with  that 
Choiseul  relay,  has  met  BouilK-  on  the  heights  of  Dun  ;  the 
adamantine  brow  flushed  with  dark  thunderous  rattle  of 
Royal-Allemand  at  his  heels.  Enghsh  Tom  answers  as  he 
can  the  brief  question.  How  it  is  at  Varennes? — then  asks  in 
turn,  What  he,  Enghsh  Tom,  with  M.  de  Choiseul's  horses,  is 
to  do,  and  whither  to  ride  ? — To  the  Bottomless  Pool !  an- 
swers a  thunder-voice  ;  then  again  speaking  and  spurring, 
orders  Royal-Allemand  to  the  gallop  ;  and  vanishes,  swearing 
{enjurant).-\  'Tis  the  last  of  our  Brave  Bouille.  Within  sight 
of  Varennes,  he  having  drawn  bridle,  calls  a  council  of  oflBl- 
cers  ;  finds  that  it  is  in  vain.  King  Louis  has  departed,  con- 
senting :  amid  the  clangour  of  universal  storm-bell ;  amid 
the  tramp  of  Ten-thousand  armed  men,  already  arrived  ;  and 
say,  of  Sixty-thousand  flocking  thither.  Brave  Deslons,  even 
without '  orders,'  darted  at  the  River  Aire  with  his  Hundred  ;  | 
swam  one  branch  of  it,  could  not  the  other  ;  and  stood  there, 
di-ipping  and  panting,  with  inflated  nostril ;  the  Ten-thousand 
answering  him  with  a  shout  of   mockery,  the  new  Berliue 

♦Bonillo,  ii.,  74-G. 

f  Declaration  du  Siexu-  Tliomas  (in  Clioiseul,  p.  188).     J  Weber,  ii.  380 


THE  RETURN.  451 

lumbering  Paris-ward  its  wearv-  ineAitable  way.  No  help, 
then  in  Earth  ;  nor  in  an  age,  not  of  miracles,  in  Heaven  ! 

That  night,  '  Marquis  de  Bouille  and  twenty-one  more  of 
'  us  rode  over  to  the  Frontiers  ;  the  Bernardine  monks  at 
'Orval  in  Luxemburg  gave  us  supper  and  lodging.'*  With 
Uttle  of  speech,  Bouille  rides  ;  with  thoughts  that  do  not 
brook  speech.  Northward,  towards  uncertainty,  and  the  Cim- 
merian Night :  towards  West-Indian  Isles,  for  with  thin  Emi- 
grant delii'ium  the  son  of  the  whu'lwind  cannot  act  ;  towards 
England,  towards  prematui-e  Stoical  death  ;  not  towards 
France  any  more.  Honour  to  the  Brave  ;  who,  be  it  in  this 
quarrel  or  in  that,  is  a  substance  and  articulate  speaking  j)iece 
of  human  Valour,  not  a  fanfaronading  hollow  Spectrum  and 
squeaking  and  gibbering  Shadow !  One  of  the  few  Royalist 
Chief-actors  this  Bouille,  of  whom  so  much  can  be  said. 

The  brave  Bouille,  too,  then,  vanishes  from  the  tissue  of 
our  Stor3^  Story  and  tissue,  faint  ineffectual  Emblem  of  that 
grand  Miraculous  Tissue,  and  Living  Tapestry  named  French 
Revolution,  which  did  weave  itself  then  in  very  fact,  '  on  the 
loud-sounding  Loom  of  Time  ! '  The  old  Brave  di'op  out  from 
it,  with  their  strivings  ;  and  new  acrid  Drouets,  of  new  striv- 
ings and  colom-,  come  in  : — as  is  the  manner  of  that  weaving. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

THE   RETURN. 

So  then  our  grand  RoyaHst  Plot,  of  Flight  to  Metz,  has  exe- 
cuted itself.  Long  hovering  in  the  backgTound,  as  a  dread 
royal  ultimatam,  it  has  rushed  foi-ward  in  its  terroi-s  :  verily 
to  some  purpose.  How  many  Royalist  Plots  and  Projects, 
one  after  another,  cunningly-devised,  that  were  to  explode 
like  powder-mines  and  thunderclaps  ;  not  one  solitary  Plot  of 
which  has  issued  otherwise  !  Powder-mine  of  a  Seance  Royale 
on  the  Twenty-thii'd  of  June,  1789,  which  exploded  as  we 
then  said,  '  through  the  touchhole  ; '  which  next,  your  wargod 
Broglie  having  reloaded  it,  brought  a  Bastille  about  your  ears. 
*  Aubriot  lU  supra,  p.  158. 


452  VARENNES. 

Then  came  fervent  Oj)era-Repast,  with  flourishing  of  sabres, 
and  0  Ricliard,  O'my  King  ;  which,  aided  by  Hunger,  produces 
Insurrection  of  "Women,  and  Pallas  Athene  in  the  shape  of 
Demoiselle  Theroigne.  Valour  profits  not  ;  neither  has  fort- 
une smiled  on  fanfaronade.  The  Bouillu  Armament  ends  as 
the  Broglie  one  had  done.  Man  after  man  spends  himself  in 
this  cause,  only  to  work  it  quicker  ruin  ;  it  seems  a  cause 
doomed,  forsaken  of  Earth  and  Heaven. 

On  the  Sixth  of  October  gone  a  year,  King  Louis,  escorted 
by  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  some  two  hundred  thousand, 
made  a  Royal  Progress  and  Entrance  into  Paris,  such  as  man 
had  never  witnessed  ;  we  prophesied  him  Two  more  such  ; 
and  accordingly  another  of  them,  after  this  flight  to  Metz,  is 
now  comiug  to  pass.  Theroigne  Anil  not  escort  here  ;  neither 
does  Mirabeau  now  '  sit  in  one  of  the  accompanying  carriages," 
Mirabeau,  lies  dead,  in  the  Pantheon  of  Great  Men.  Theroigne 
lies  Hving,  in  dark  Austrian  Prison  ;  hanng  gone  to  Liege, 
professionally,  and  been  seized  there.  Bemurmured  now  by 
the  hoarse-flowing  Danube  :  the  light  of  her  Patriot  Supper- 
parties  gone  quite  out ;  so  lies  Theroigne  :  she  shall  speak 
with  the  Kaiser  face  to  face,  and  return.  And  France  lies — 
how !  Fleeting  Time  shears  down  the  great  and  the  little  ; 
and  in  two  years  alters  many  things. 

But  at  all  events,  here,  we  say,  is  a  second  Ignominious 
Royal  Procession,  though  much  altered  ;  to  be  witnessed  also 
by  its  hundreds  of  thousands.  Patience,  ye  Paris  Patriots  ; 
the  Royal  Berhue  is  returning.  Not  till  Saturday  :  for  the 
Royal  Berline  travels  by  slow  stages  ;  amid  such  loud-voiced 
confluent  sea  of  National  Guards,  sixty  thousand  as  they 
count ;  amid  such  tumult  of  all  people.  Three  National- 
Assembly  Commissioners,  famed  Barnave,  famed  Petion,  gen- 
erallj'-respectable  Latoui'-Maubourg,  have  gone  to  meet  it ;  of 
whom  the  two  former  ride  in  the  Berline  itself  beside  Majesty, 
day  after  day.  Latour,  as  a  mere  respectability,  and  man  of 
whom  all  men  speak  well,  can  ride  in  the  reai",  with  Dame  de 
Tourzel  and  the  Souhretteif. 

So  on  Saturday  evening,  about  seven  o'clock.  Paris  by  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  is  again  drawn  up  :  not  now  dancing  the 


THE  RETURN.  453 

tricolour  joy-dance  of  hope  ;  nor  as  yet  dancing  in  fury- 
dance  of  hate  and  revenge  ;  but  in  silence,  with  vague  look  of 
conjecture,  and  curiosity  mostly  scientific.  A  Saint-Antoine 
Placard  has  given  notice  this  morning  that  '  whosoever  insults 
Louis  shall  be  caned,  whosoever  applauds  him  shall  be  hanged.' 
Behold,  then,  at  last,  that  wonderful  New  Berline  ;  encircled 
by  blue  National  sea  with  fixed  bayonets,  which  flows  slowly, 
floating  it  on,  through  the  silent  assembled  hundreds  of 
thousands.  Three  yellow  Couriers  sit  atop  bound  with  ropes ; 
Petion,  Barnave,  their  Majesties,  with  Sister  Elizabeth,  and 
the  Children  of  France,  are  within. 

Smile  of  embarrassment,  or  cloud  of  dull  sourness,  is  on 
the  broad  phlegmatic  face  of  his  Majesty  ;  who  keeps  declar- 
ing to  the  successive  Official-persons,  what  is  evident,  "Eh 
Men,  me  voild,  Well,  here  you  have  me  ;  "  and  what  is  not  evi- 
dent, "  I  do  assvu-e  you  I  did  not  mean  to  pass  the  frontiers  ; " 
and  so  forth  :  speeches  natural  for  that  poor  Eoyal  Man  ; 
which  Decency  would  veil.  Silent  is  her  Majesty,  with  a  look 
of  grief  and  scorn  ;  natural  for  that  Royal  Woman.  Thus 
lumbers  and  creeps  the  ignominious  Royal  Pi-ocession,  tlu'ough 
many  streets,  amid  a  silent-gazing  people  :  comparable,  Mer- 
cier  thinks,*  to  some  Procession  de  Roi  de  Basoche  ;  or  say, 
Procession  of  King  Crispin,  with  his  Dukes  of  Sutor-mania 
and  royal  blazonry  of  Cordwainery.  Except,  indeed,  that  this 
is  not  comic  ;  ah  no,  it  is  comico-tragic ;  with  bound  Couri- 
ers, and  a  Doom  hanging  over  it ;  most  fantastic,  yet  most 
miserably  real.  Miserablesty/eftzZe  ludihrium  of  a  Pickleher- 
ring  Tragedy  !  It  sweeps  along  there,  in  most  wngorgeous 
pall,  through  many  streets  in  the  dusty  summer  evening  ; 
gets  itself  at  length  wi'iggled  out  of  sight ;  vanishing  in  the 
Tuileries  Palace — towai-ds  its  doom,  of  slow  torture,  peine  forte 
3t  dure. 

Populace,  it  is  true,  seizes  the  three  rope-bound  yeUow  Cour- 
iers ;  wiU  at  least  massacre  them.  But  our  august  Assembly, 
which  is  sitting  at  this  great  moment,  sends  out  Deputation  of 
rescue  ;  and  the  whole  is  got  huddled  up.  Barnave,  '  all 
dusty,'  is  abeady  there,  in  the  National  Hall ;  making  brief 
*  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  22. 


454  VARENNE8. 

discreet  address  and  report.  As,  indeed,  tlu'ougli  the  whole 
journey,  this  Baruave  has  been  most  discreet,  sympathetic , 
and  has  gained  the  Queen's  trust,  whose  noble  instinct  teaches 
her  always  who  is  to  be  trusted.  Very  different  from  heavj 
Petion  ;  who,  if  Campan  sjDeak  truth,  ate  his  luncheon,  com- 
fortably filled  his  wine-glass,  in  the  Royal  Berline  ;  flung  out 
his  chicken-bones  past  the  nose  of  Royalty  itself  ;  and,  on  the 
King's  saying  "  France  cannot  be  a  Republic,"  answered  "  No, 
it  is  not  ripe  yet."  Barnave  is  henceforth  a  Queen's  adviser, 
if  advice  could  profit :  and  her  Majesty  astonishes  Dame 
Campan  by  signifying  almost  a  regard  for  Barnave  ;  and  that, 
in  a  day  of  retribution  and  Royal  triumph,  Barnave  shall  not 
be  executed.* 

On  Monday  night  Royalty  went  ;  on  Saturday  evening  it 
returns  :  so  much,  within  one  short  week,  has  Royalty  accom- 
plished for  itself.  The  Pickleherring  Tragedy  has  vanished 
in  the  Tuileries  Palace,  towards  'pain  strong  and  hard.' 
Watched,  fettered  and  humbled,  as  Royalty  never  was. 
Watched  even  in  its  sleeping-apartments  and  inmost  recesses  : 
for  it  has  to  sleep  with  door  set  ajar,  blue  National  Ai-gus 
watching,  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Queen's  curtains ;  nay,  on  one 
occasion,  as  the  Queen  cannot  sleep,  he  offers  to  sit  by  her 
pillow,  and  converse  a  little  !  f 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SHARP    SHOT. 


In  regard  to  all  which,  this  most  pressing  question  arises  : 
What  is  to  be  done  with  it  ?  Depose  it !  resolutely  answer 
Robespierre  and  the  thoroughgoing  few.  For,  truly,  with  a 
King  who  runs  away,  and  needs  to  be  watched  in  his  very 
bedroom  that  he  may  stay  and  govern  you,  what  other  rea- 
sonable thing  can  be  done?  Had  Philippe  d'Orleans  not 
been  a  caput  morluum  !  But  of  him,  known  as  one  defunct, 
lie  man  now  dreams.  Depose  it  not ;  say  that  it  is  inviolable, 
*  Campan,  ii.  o.  18.  \  Ibid.,  ii.  149. 


SHARP  SHOT.  455 

that  it  was  spirited  away,  was  enleve ;  at  any  cost  of  sophistry 
and  solecism,  re-estabhsh  it !  so  answer  with  loud  vehemence 
all  manner  of  Constitutional  Royahsts  ;  as  all  your  pure  Roy- 
ahsts  do  naturally  hkewise,  with  low  vehemence,  and  rage 
compressed  by  fear,  still  more  passionately  answer.  Nay, 
Barnave  and  the  two  Lameths,  and  what  will  foUow  them,  do 
likewise  answer  so.  Answer,  with  their  whole  might :  terror- 
struck  at  the  unknown  Abysses  on  the  verge  of  which,  driven 
thither  by  themselves  mainly,  all  now  reels,  ready  to  plunge. 

By  mighty  effort,  and  combination,  this  latter  course  is  the 
course  fixed  on  ;  and  it  shall  by  the  strong  arm,  if  not  by  the 
clearest  logic,  be  made  good.  With  the  sacrifice  of  all  their 
hard-earned  popularity,  this  notable  Triumvirate,  says  Toulon- 
geon,  '  set  the  Throne  up  again,  which  they  had  so  toiled  to 
'  overturn  :  as  one  might  set  up  an  overturned  pyramid,  on  its 
'  vertex  ; '  to  stand  so  long  as  it  is  held. 

Unhappy  France  ;  unhappy  in  King,  Queen,  and  Constitu- 
tion ;  one  knows  not  in  which  unhappiest !  Was  the  meaning 
of  our  so  glorious  French  Revolution  this,  and  no  other,  That 
when  Shams  and  Delusions,  long  soul-killing,  had  become 
body-killing,  and  got  the  length  of  Bankruptcy  and  Inanition, 
a  great  People  rose  and,  with  one  voice,  said,  in  the  Name  of 
the  Highest :  Shams  shall  he  no  more  ?  So  many  sorrows  and 
bloody  horrors  endured,  and  to  be  yet  endured  through  dis- 
mal coming  centuries,  were  they  not  the  heavy  price  paid  and 
payable  for  this  same  :  Total  Destruction  of  Shams  from 
among  men  ?  And  now,  O  Barnave  Triumvirate  !  is  it  in  such 
c?ou&Ze-distilled  Delusion,  and  Sham  even  of  a  Sham,  that  an 
effort  of  this  kind  will  rest  acquiescent  ?  Messiem-s  of  the 
popular  Triumvirate,  never! — But,  after  all,  what  can  poor 
popular  Triumvirates,  and  fallible  august  Senators,  do  ?  They 
can,  when  the  Truth  is  ail-too  horrible,  stick  their  heads  os- 
trich-Hke  into  what  sheltering  Fallacy  is  nearest ;  and  wait 
there,  d  posteriori. 

Readers  who  saw  the  Clermontais  and  Three-Bishopricks 
gallop,  in  the  Night  of  Spurs  ;  DiUgences  ruffling  up  all 
France   into  one   terrific,  terrified  Cock  of  India ;   and  the 


456  vJitiJijNNES. 

Town  of  Nantes  in  its  shirt, — may  fancy  what  an  affair  to 
settle  this  was.  Eobespierre,  ou  the  extreme  Left,  with  per- 
haps Petion  and  lean  okl  Goupil,  for  the  very  Triumvirate 
has  defalcated,  are  shrieking  hoarse  ;  drowned  in  Constitu- 
tional clamour.  But  the  debate  and  arguing  of  a  whole  Na- 
tion ;  the  bellowings  through  all  Journals,  for  and  against ; 
the  reverberant  voice  of  Dauton  ;  the  Hyperion  shafts  of 
Camille,  the  porcupine-quills  of  implacable  Marat : — conceive 
all  this. 

Constitutionalists  in  a  body,  as  we  often  predicted,  do  now 
recede  fi'om  the  Mother  Society,  and  become  Fcirillans  ; 
threatening  her  Avith  inanition,  the  rank  and  respectability 
being  mostly  gone.  Petition  after  Petition,  forwarded  by 
Post,  or  borne  in  Deputation,  comes  praying  for  Judgment 
and  Decheance,  which  is  our  name  for  Deposition  ;  praying,  at 
lowest,  for  Reference  to  the  Eighty-three  Departments  of 
France.  Hot  Marseillese  Deputation  comes  declaring,  among 
other  things  :  "  Our  Phocean  Ancestors  flimg  a  Bar  of  L'on 
"  into  the  Bay  at  their  first  landing  ;  this  Bar  will  float  again 
"  on  the  Meditteranean  brine  before  Ave  consent  to  be  slaves." 
AH  this  for  four  weeks  or  more,  while  the  matter  still  hangs 
doubtful  ;  Emigration  streaming  with  double  violence  over 
the  frontiers  ;  *  France  seething  in  fierce  agitation  of  this 
question  and  prize-question  :  "What  is  to  be  done  with  the 
fugitive  Hereditary  Eepreseutative  ? 

Fmally,  on  Friday,  the  15th  of  July,  1791,  the  National  As- 
sembly decides  ;  in  what  negatory  manner  we  know.  Where- 
upon the  Theatres  all  close,  the  ^o(/r/?e-stones  and  Portable- 
chairs  begin  spouting.  MunicijDal  Placards  flaming  on  the 
walls,  and  Proclamations,  published  by  sound  of  trumpet, 
'  invite  to  rejjose  ; '  with  small  eflect.  And  so,  ou  Sunday  the 
17th,  there  shall  be  a  thing  seen,  Avorthy  of  remembering. 
Scroll  of  a  Petition,  draAvn  up  by  Brissots,  Dantons,  by  Cor- 
deliers, Jacobins  ;  for  the  thing  Avas  infinitely  shaken  and  ma- 
nipulated, and  many  had  a  hand  in  it :  such  Scroll  lies  now 
visible,  on  the  wooden  framework  of  the  Fatherland's  Altar, 
for  signature.  UnAvorking  Paris,  male  and  female,  is  croAvd- 
*  Botiill6,  ii.  101. 


SHARP  SHOT.  457 

ing  thither,  all  day,  to  sign  or  to  see.  Our  fair  Roland  her- 
self the  eye  of  History  can  discern  there,  '  in  the  morning  ;  ■'■• 
not  without  interest.  In  few  weeks  the  fair  Patriot  will  quit 
Paris  ;  yet  perhaps  only  to  return. 

But,  what  with  sorrow  of  balked  Patriotism,  what  with 
closed  theatres,  and  Proclamations  still  publishing  themselves 
by  sound  of  trumpet,  the  fervoui-  of  mens  minds,  this  day,  is 
gi-eat.  Nay,  over  and  above,  there  has  fallen  out  an  incident, 
of  the  nature  of  Farce-Tragedy  and  Riddle  ;  enough  to  stimu- 
late all  creatures.  Early  in  the  d^j,  a  Patriot  (or  some  say, 
it  was  a  Patriotess,  and  indeed  the  truth  is  undiscoverable), 
while  standing  on  the  firm  deal-board  of  Fatherland's  Altar, 
feels  suddenly,  with  indescribable  torpedo-shock  of  amaze- 
ment, his  bootsole  pricked  through  from  below  ;  clutches  up 
suddenly  this  electrified  bootsole  and  foot  ;  discerns  next  in- 
stant— the  point  of  a  gimlet  or  brad-awl  playing  up,  through 
the  firm  deal-board,  and  now  hastily  drawing  itself  back  ! 
Mystery,  perhaps  Treason  ?  The  wooden  frame-work  is  im- 
petuously broken  up  ;  and  behold,  verily  a  mystery ;  never 
explicable  fully  to  the  end  of  the  world  !  Two  human  indi- 
viduals, of  mean  aspect,  one  of  them  with  a  wooden  leg,  lie 
ensconced  there,  gimlet  in  hand  ;  they  must  have  come  in 
overnight ;  they  have  a  supply  of  provisions, — no  '  barrel  of 
gunpowder '  that  one  can  see ;  they  affect  to  be  asleep  ;  look 
blank  enough,  and  give  the  lamest  account  of  themselves. 
"  Mere  curiosity  ;  they  were  boring  up,  to  get  an  eye-hole ; 
"  to  see,  perhaps  '  with  lubricity,'  whatsoever,  from  that  new 
"  point  of  vision  could  be  seen  :  "—little  that  was  edifying, 
one  would  think  !  But  indeed  what  stupidest  thing  may  not 
human  Dulness,  Prurienc}',  Lubricity,  Chance  and  the  Devil, 
choosing  two  out  of  Half-a-milhon  idle  human  heads,  tempt 
them  to?t 

Sure  enough,  the  two  human  individuals  with  their  gimlet 
are  there.  Ill-starred  pair  of  individuals  !  For  the  result  of  it 
all  is  that  Patriotism,  fretting  itself,  in  this  state  of  nervous 
excitability  with  hypotheses,  suspicions  and  reports,  keeps 
questioning  these  two  distracted  human  individuals,  and 
*  Madame  Roland,  ii.  74.  f  Hist.  Pari.  xi.  104-7. 


458  VARENNES. 

agaiu  questioning  them  ;  claps  them  into  the  nearest  Guard- 
house, ckitches  them  out  again  ;  one  hypothetic  group  snatch- 
ing them  from  another  :  till  finally,  in  such  extreme  state  of 
nervous  excitability,  Patriotism  hangs  them  as  spies  of  Sieur 
Motier  ;  and  the  life  and  secret  is  choked  out  of  them  for- 
evermore,  Forevermore,  alas  !  Or  is  a  day  to  be  looked 
for  when  these  two  evidently  mean  individuals,  who  are  hu- 
man nevertheless,  will  become  Historical  Eiddles ;  and,  like 
him  of  the  Iron  Mask  (also  a  human  individual,  and  evidently 
nothing  more), — have  their  Dissertations  ?  To  us  this  only 
is  certain,  that  they  had  a  gimlet,  provisions  and  a  wooden 
leg  ;  and  have  died  there  on  the  Lantei'ne,  as  the  unluckiest 
fools  might  die. 

And  so  the  signature  goes  on  in  a  still  more  excited  man- 
ner. And  Chaumette,  for  Antiquarians  jDossess  the  very 
Paper  to  this  hour,* — has  signed  himself  '  in  a  flowing  saucy 
hand  slightly  leaned  ; '  and  Hebert,  detestable  Pere  Duchtne, 
as  if  '  an  inked  spider  had  dropped  on  the  paper  ; '  Usher 
Maillard  also  has  signed,  and  many  Crosses,  which  can- 
not write.  And  Paris,  through  its  thousand  avenues,  is  well- 
ing to  the  Champ-de-Mars  and  from  it,  in  the  utmost  excita- 
bility of  humour  ;  central  Fatherland's  Altar  quite  heaped 
with  signing  Patriots  and  Patriotesses  ;  the  Thirty  benches 
and  whole  internal  Space  crowded  with  onlookei's,  with 
comers  and  goers  ;  one  regurgitating  whirlpool  of  men  and 
women  in  their  Sunday  clothes.  All  which  a  Constitution- 
al Sieur  Motier  sees  ;  and  Bailly,  looking  into  it  with  his 
long  visage  made  still  longer.  Auguring  no  good  ;  jjerhaps 
Decheance  and  Deposition  after  all !  Stop  it,  ye  Constitu- 
tional Patriots  ;  fire  itself  is  quenchable,  yet  only  quenchable 
aijird. 

Stop  it,  truly  :  but  how  stop  it  ?  Have  not  the  first  free 
People  of  the  Universe  a  right  to  petition  ? — Happily,  if  also 
unhappily,  here  is  one  proof  of  riot :  these  two  human  indi- 
viduals, hang  at  the  Lanterne.  Proof,  O  treacherous  Sieur 
Motier  ?  Were  they  not  two  human  indi^dduals  sent  thither 
by  thee  to  be  banged  ;  to  be  a  pretext  for  thy  bloody  Drapeau 
*  Hist.  Pari.  xi.  113,  &c. 


SHARP  SHOT.  459 

Rouge  ?  This  question  shall  many  a  Patriot,  one  day,  ask  ; 
and  answer  affirmatively,  strong  in  Preternatm-al  Suspicion. 

Enough,  towards  half  past  seven  in  the  evening,  the  mere 
natural  eye  can  behold  this  thing  ;  Sieur  Motier,  with  Muni- 
cipals in  scarf,  with  blue  National  Patrollotism,  rank  after 
rank,  to  the  clang  of  drums ;  wending  resolutely  to  the 
Champ-de-Mars  ;  Mayor  Bailly,  with  elongated  visage,  bear- 
ing, as  in  sad  duty  bound,  the  Drapeau  Rouge.  Howl  of 
angry  derision  rises  in  treble  and  bass  from  a  hundred 
thousand  throats,  at  the  sight  of  Martial  Law  ;  which  never- 
theless, waving  its  Red  sanguinary  Flag,  advances  there,  from 
the  Gros-Caillou  Entrance  ;  advances,  drumming  and  wav- 
ing, towards  Altar  of  Fatherland.  Amid  still  wilder  howls, 
with  objurgation,  obtestation  ;  with  flights  of  pebbles  and 
mud,  mxa  et  fceces  ;  with  crackle  of  a  pistol  shot ; — finally 
with  volley  fire  of  Pati'ollotism  ;  levelled  muskets  ;  roll  of 
volley  on  volley !  Precisely  after  one  year  and  three  days, 
our  sublime  Federation  Field  is  wetted  in  this  manner,  with 
French  blood. 

Some  'Twelve  unfortunately  shot,'  reports  Bailly,  counting 
by  units ;  but  Patriotism  counts  by  tens  and  even  by  hun- 
dreds. Not  to  be  forgotten,  nor  forgiven  !  Patriotism  flies, 
shrieking,  execrating.  Camille  ceases  Journalizing,  this  day  ; 
great  Danton  with  Camille  and  Fr6ron  have  taken  wing,  fo«- 
their  life  ;  Marat  burrows  deep  in  the  Earth,  and  is  silent. 
Once  more  Patrollotism  has  triumphed  ;  one  other  time  ;  but 
it  is  the  last. 

This  was  the  royal  flight  to  Varennes.  Thus  was  the 
Throne  overturned  thereby  ;  but  thus  also  was  it  victoriously 
set  up  again — on  its  vertex  ;  and  will  stand  while  it  can  be 
held. 


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